Not the only pebble on the beach

Beach pebbles

Beach pebbles

Yesterday I discovered that our youngest dog has dug up the mosaic I made with pebbles from the beach.

I rescued the stones as best I could, and for some reason found myself remembering the dreaded phrase:

You’re not the only pebble on the beach.

I must have been a selfish child because it was used on me quite regularly, but never apparently with any thought to the fact that one of my favourite hobbies was hunting for pebbles on the beach.

I wonder if the rather lame phrase of comfort to the jilted lover:

There’s plenty more fish in the sea

would be used equally indiscriminately to a fisherman?

Would it be a double whammy in these times of overfishing?


Mist floods the valley

Mist floods the valley

The world’s gone topsy-turvy.

The sea has found its way into our valley.

It has flooded the gulf between us and the mountain opposite.

The town has gone; the road and the railway.

We will need a boat.

Even so I don’t relish the prospect of sallying forth across that torrent.

Best to check our stores and see how long we can survive where we are.