Sunday at home.

   The parcel office here is open Sundays 10 till 2. Which is handy as I'm never here when it's open normal hours. I had two parcels to collect. Via a slight detour to pick up some food, I collected my parcels. A second pair of reading glasses and an old brass letter box for my old front door. Once home I posed in front of the mirror for few minutes trying to look smart in my new glasses. Gave that up as a bad job and chopped up the recently purchased vegetables, popped them in the slow cooker along with some beef and switched on. In a few hours the fairies will have finished their magic and supper will be ready.
   I had a pile of books to take to the book shop at the bottom of the road and then planned to go for a walk along the beach as the tide was out (according to the little app on my phone). The pile of books came courtesy of my Mum. She belongs to a book club and ends up reading lots of high brow books she doesn't enjoy. I know, don't ask. Once in a while she asks me whether I would like any of them, which translated from mum speak to normal English is, "can you take these books away please, as I'm old and feeble." The part time book shop at the end of the road is open Tuesdays and Sundays. It's run by a local couple. Laid out in no particular order with chairs dotted around, so you can sit and read. They probably only make enough to pay the rent and the coffee, which you're given soon after you arrive. So they get Mums books and I get to look along the shelves for old penguin paperbacks. With two additions for my collection and buzzing from the strong coffee I crossed the road and through the gap to the sea.
   I've been here almost eighteen mouths now and still haven't lost the childlike thrill of looking out to sea at the boats and picking up shells to take home. I go, prepared with something to put the shells in and boots just in case I decide to search around the rock pools. I've become a beach "bag lady" slowly making my way along the waterline looking for anything interesting. I've seen a seashell path in the town. Lots of shells crushed under foot over many years. I only have a small garden so it's do able. I might have to swap the plastic bag for a bucket though. Amongst the shells and pebbles were a lot of crab bits, legs, claws, shells. It looked like some massive crab fight had gone off. I'm sure there's a natural explanation for it but I like my idea. One crab looking at another crabs girlfriend, followed by a few words and insults. Then bang, massive crab fight. I also found a half buried octopus. Which on closer inspection turned out to be a bicycle tyre. As I mentioned. If you walk along the beach slowly you start to see more and become turned into what you're doing. Which links me into something else I was doing this week. Sometimes blogs I follow stop. The authors moves on or get bored or finds the time commitment to blog difficult to keep up with. So I had a look around to see whats out there. One of the blogs I read, felt really miserable and that things wouldn't change. mistakes where made and people had moved on. Given my experience, I decided to leave a comment. Along the lines of don't give up, look at things differently. Because when you do the nice shells appear as if by magic. Talking of magic I think the fairies of the slow cooker have done their stuff so it's time to eat.

Onwards and upwards. In search of fulfillment :-)))