Ah!

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It was good to walk along the shore early this morning. The tide was on the turn leaving behind it a wiggly trail of decaying seaweed on the white shingle, marking the high point that it had reached just a few minutes before. There was barely a ripple on the surface of the sea. The wind was light and the birds were quiet. No one else was about at that hour and no sound of traffic drifted from the empty road. Apricot wisps of cloud trailed across the face of the rising sun. Its rays skimmed across the surface of the sea straight up the lough and into the harbour when they glinted off boats and rigging. This is the kind of morning that gives me reassurance that perhaps after all I did the right thing retiring to the otherwise shoddy little town of Larne.