tempus fugit

By ceridwen

Plumes, flumes and spume

The sea was seething around the Witch's Cauldron. Lumps of froth were spinning off the waves, the rocks were wreathed in spray and the wind was fierce enough to rattle your teeth. 
The dog wore two coats.
It was not a day to linger. 
We had fish pie and Christmas cake we we got home. It tasted better for the battering.
A few more pics here.

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