This spell of half-decent weather we've been enjoying of late reached new heights yesterday. It was sunny and absolutely glorious all day long. Days like this are like hen's teeth in England in October, so the missus and I seize the opportunity and jumped on a train to the coast.
We travelled down to Shoeburyness in Essex and walked the few miles along the Thames Estuary coast through Southend to Leigh-On-Sea. This stretch of coast, as I'm sure I've mentioned before, gets short shrift off the self-appointed cognoscenti, but for why, I can't imagine. It's beautiful. The light yesterday was magical. It was as good as anything I saw in California's Pacific coast. I am being serious.
By the time we'd marched to Leigh, we were knackered and stopped for some cockles there, in true cliched cock-er-knee style. Shellfish is my only concession to the otherwise appalling world of cockney cuisine. I do like a cockle. There's something truly lovely about the coast when the light's right. Why is it I wonder we as species seem drawn to the water, like this? It's as if we atavistically yearn to return to our pre-mammal state. I certainly do.
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