Sea and sand

Yaverland took second place in the holiday stakes, with visits on three days, the first of which has already been noticed at reference 1. While the second and third of which were the last two days of the holiday, the weather having turned warm and sunny.

On the Wednesday, I had PayByPhone well under control. No flap at all. And we elected to walk north, towards the red cliff. BH went so far as to take her shoes off and have a bit of a paddle, with the red cliff being visible roughly in the middle of the headland to her left.

We didn't actually make it to the red cliff on this occasion, but returned for our first picnic of the holiday, the usual modest affair of bread, cheese and bits. No hampers or champers for us. But there were plenty of family parties having a good time on the beach in front of us.

After which I made a short foray to the south, taking in a very fine sand castle on the way. Battlements style rather than water works style (this being my style), but very big, maybe covering a three metre square. Children relegated to the margins.

There was also a talkative lady with a dog with views about dogs on beaches. I learned that the council had forgotten to put in the necessary paperwork to the courts and was not, in consequence, in any position to enforce the by-laws set out on posts at regular intervals along the beach. By-laws which the talkative lady got quite excited about.

Back to the beach café, where they could only manage the one of their excellent rock cakes to take with our tea, but that, is it happens was enough on this occasion. After all, we had not been swimming or anything like that.

Giant motor bike in the car park on exit, with two back wheels, a partner's throne above and a reverse gear, which last did not, apparently, stop it counting as a motor bike for tax purposes. A local, rather than a long range chap. I think I would have noticed if it had been a Harley, but the snap above does give the general idea.

Later on, put off by the giant gas works at the Yarbridge turning, as previously noticed, we settled for the Bugle again. Returned the Richard Church book that I had borrowed and then, previous pie notwithstanding, I went for pie again, menu pie rather than pie-night pie, and remembering to ask for gravy on the side. And to take chips rather than mash. Which all worked out well enough, while BH was happy enough with her pork belly, getting a rather more substantial portion that she would have got fine dining in Surrey. Yellow mash not so clever.

A place we rather like and it is certainly convenient. Noticing for the first time the interesting overhead bookshelves, with the heavy timber shelves presumably attached to the much lighter cladding behind by brackets hidden behind the books.

Back to Yaverland the following morning, which was warm and hazy. Very little in the way of water sports, apart from paddling and swimming that is.

On this second visit, one of us at least made it to the red cliff, leaving BH to mind what looked like a fairly fresh earth slide.

The red cliff. No raptors above on this occasion.

As I approached, noticing a large chunk of rock on the beach, speculations about the interesting geology which accounted for the unusual shape, cracks and so forth, until getting rather closer, I realised that it was a chunk of red brick work, fallen down from above. I thought that perhaps it had been perched over the edge the year before.

But looking again today, maybe not. A very substantial bit of brickwork, bigger than the percher, which had looked like part of a shed or hut, perhaps rather once part of some fort or gun emplacement.

Back once again to the beach café, where we took tea and rock cake, one each on this occasion, plus two to take away, to take the place of the traditional Bounty Bar on the ferry the next day. I was self-indulgent enough - given my low-fluid diet - to take two teas. The whole followed by half a picnic on a bench overlooking the beach. Plenty of people both down there and wandering up and down to keep us amused.

Followed later by three Pukka pies between the two of us. Greens and pies from Tesco, heat from microwave. Not the sort of thing we make a habit of, but we thought that the Pukka people did rather well, getting the consistency inside and the various textures just about right. For the money, one would have to be very keen to attempt to better it - or even match it - DIY.

Washed down with some English cherries. Which I have not liked as much this year as the Spanish ones.

For the last time, pondered about the kitchen table, which certainly looked like some kind of block-board, I thought perhaps the obeche that used to be used for things like drawing boards when I was young. I still own one. But one can never be too sure these days, with all the clever fakes there are knocking around the furniture and furnishing shops. BH was suspicious of the hard, smooth finish, not very organic, let alone ecological, at all.

I didn't go as far as turning the table over, but the zig-zag joins in the top looked OK - one of which might be visible upper right in the first of the snaps above - the with-grain and cross-grain edges looked OK and the underside felt OK.  While the snap immediately above and the story at reference 2, from which it was taken, made availability of this pale timber from Africa in large planks, rather in the way of our own whitewood pine, seem entirely plausible.

I settled for not fake.

We took what will probably be the last real rock cakes of the year on the ferry. Only let down by all the granulated sugar which had been sprinkled on top of the hot cakes not long after they came out of the oven having by then stuck on. One had to eat it, rather than tap it off, in the manner of Hornblower's weevils. For those that did Hornblower when young. Or perhaps old.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/07/yaverland.html.

Reference 2: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triplochiton_scleroxylon.