For aficionados only

Our favourite beach, the one we always go back to.
The one where people who first came with their parents now bring their grandchildren.
The one you walk to between banks embossed with primroses and celandines, along a path embraced by blackthorn blossom.
The one where a dozen people are a crowd.
The one where there's only a bit of sand (at low tide) and the stones hurt your feet.
The one where your wellies fill with water when you try to cross the stream.
The one where you dam the pool to skim stones across and your uncle throws splooshers.
The one where the dog's pads got cut by barnacles until they were bloody but he didn't even notice.
The one where we had a picnic supper and the moon rose behind us as the sun set but the camera lens got smeared with olive oil and all the pictures turned out blurred.
The one where we cooked sausages on a driftwood fire in the rain on New Year's day (many times).
The one where we borrowed kayaks and had great fun until the wind got up and two of us capsized.
The one we always go back to...