Leeds Station. 10am.
Not the start of my journey, as I have to travel a little to get to Leeds, but the point at which my camera sneaked out of my backpack for the first time.
In black and white because I thought it made it look all atmospheric and what-have-you. My black and white also made it up to Alnmouth, about 12pm:
Ok, the rest are in colour. Lovely, vibrant, beachy colour.
We crocheted merrily all the way there and back on the train. There’s something delicious about setting yourself geographical granny square targets – “ok, finish the square before Darlington”. I quite impressed myself with the amount I got done. I have now nearly finished the Dahlia block.
We walked down to the beach from the station (it’s just under a mile) not because we were feeling particularly virtuous, but because the buses confused us too much. Happily it was all downhill and presented us with all manner of opportunities to take photos.
We then rocked out a picnic on the beach. I mean really, sand aside, is anything better than sausage rolls and crisps on the beach? (Even if a storm is creeping threateningly up on you). I doubt it.
Of course, the best thing about storms, especially ones that end up missing you, is C L O U D S!
Poking about finding treasure on the beach took me right back to my childhood days. There was also a whole dead sheep (minus the eyes). I didn’t take any photos of that, and managed to resist my childlike urge to poke it with a stick. Go me.
And then it was evening.
It’s probably some kind of offence to take photos of other people’s kids with a telephoto lens, but he finshed off my shot so perfectly. Thanks, random little boy.
I took so many photos that day that I haven’t even looked at all of them, so these were just a few of my favourites. There will be more… oh yes.