It’s time to go home. I’ve seen dolphins and pelicans and manatees, and this morning a sea of black ducks soaring above us as we stood on the pier. The weather has been beautiful the last few days, and it’s been amazing to sit outside and write looking at the sea. It might be the Gulf of Mexico and not Worbarrow Bay, but that is what the imagination is for.
Of course, I took Fred on holiday with me. Kit and Mr Rivers et al refused to be left behind – even on the plane, I am sure that they were all huddled a few rows behind. They certainly paced up and down the beach with me, gazing at the sea and daydreaming about what happens next.
In the early morning mist, with fog drifting along the beach thick as smoke, I could easily see the scenes of Fred and the heron haunted English streams. Although, this picture by Mr S, shows a different view of a heron. He’s got his rod and tackle box and is enjoying the sunset.
And here’s a picture of me at the Ringling Circus Museum (a place itching with stories…) snapped by Mr S as I’m pondering Fred. There are probably some shadowy figures in the window, waiting…