Finally.

Looking for a new magazine? I wrote about three favourites of mine. 🤓

Melissa Harrison:

Moreover, I’ve learned not to join in with Twitter pile-ons, or insult or mock people I disagree with. This is partly because I have no wish to add to the febrile atmosphere that permeates social media at the moment, and which I think is poisoning so much of our public debate. It’s also because the moment that you insult or belittle someone, the opportunity for progress in the discussion is lost because they’re not going to be open to anything else you say. Why should they?

Written four years ago. Still insightful. Still true.

Look at this cute fellah.

A buzzard, drifting lazily over the Woods Mill car park.

Into the woods.

Evening sea swim.

I’m doing my best to keep the bird feeders topped up today. The sudden cold snap means they’ll be looking for food more urgently - and some of them will be preparing to migrate.

Rainbow over Shoreham Beach yesterday.

My July in one second every day.

Sitting by the sea while my daughter has a socially distanced outdoors Rainbows meeting.

Some interesting thoughts on the future of newsletters.

I certainly think many newsletters resemble blogs - but many are nothing like them, too.

Beach cleaning after (Storm) Ellen.

Managed a little time on the beach before the rain hit.

I couldn’t figure out why my mouse wasn’t working this morning, until I turned it over.

Well played, daughters of mine.

The faceless mob of Twitter accelerants.

Sea swim with my tiny limpet. 🌊

Beach life.

I’m currently reading The Daring Of Della Dupree by Natasha Lowe 📚 to my daughters. They are absolutely loving it. Just enough peril to keep them hooked, but some genuine history in there for them to learn from. 👌🏻

The “aircraft engine housing and car wash brushes” look for garden gates is in, in, in, this summer.

After a week of glorious sunshine and sweltering sunshine, it’s a relief to see clouds overhead again. Oh, it’s still warm, but it’s the lack of sunshine that’s the point. It’s freeing. We’ve been to the beach, and over the river to town. My eldest and I cycled, without becoming sweaty messes. It’s been a lovely day.

I know this is heretical in a sun-worshipping age, but you can do so much more outside on days like this than in the relentless heat of a sunny day. You can stay out longer, you don’t need to avoid the middle of the day and, most of all, we’re not inundated by half-dressed visitors.

Oh, I know this is very much a first world problem, but our beach gets absolutely bombed when the sun comes out. It’s been far worse this year, as people who are — quite understandably — choosing not to go abroad this year head to the local beach instead. We don’t go to the beach much on sunny days. We’re happy to cede that to others, because we get to use it for the rest of the year. We can swim when there aren’t people messing around in powerboats and jet skis where they shouldn’t be, and can enjoy an autumn or springtime picnic on the beach.

The sun’s gone in. The vistors have stayed at home. And the beach and the river are ours again.

Bliss.

As soon as the sun goes in, we get the beach back to ourselves. This was absolutely heaving a few days ago.

There are worse places to catch up on a few emails.

Tempting.

Upgrade for our Zoom future.