A gentler rhythm is called for.

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A thick mist and a heavy drizzle where what I stepped into this morning at 8:30 on the promenade leading out of town along the coast. There was a moderate swell in the sea and it was in close to the shore, but only splashing onto the rocks rather than crashing onto them. The wind was light and the only sound apart from the sea was the dragging of chains at the dock. The 8.30 ferry to Scotland was just disappearing into the mist when I arrived for my morning walk. I needed my heavy winter coat, polished boots, scarf and rumpled fedora as protection against the heavy morning chill and it felt good to step out thusly clad. There were only a few other walkers, mostly with dogs, and a man out on the far rocks gathering seaweed, though I don’t know why. Passing the leisure centre I was offended by the boom boom music leaking out of an open window into the mournful morning: an exercise class for women was in full swing which I’m sure couldn’t be healthy at that time of the morning. I don’t hold with these trendy 24 hour gyms. The world needs to rest all night then start over gently. I know I do.