The beach was empty of visitors, the picnics and the paddlers all gone. Grey sky, cold wind.
The tide had thrown up this mermaid's purse. A nursehound's eggcase by the look of it. It was empty of its embryo, whether hatched or predated by a crab or a bird I couldn't tell. These shark family egg cases consist of a sort of thick pouch attached to seaweed by a tangle of wiry threads. Fish manage to create these things without the use of plastic - why can't we?
At the more sheltered bay on the other side of the headland, where the church was half-washed away by the sea [Kendall and Sue will remember it] I noticed a tiny door set into the graveyard wall (extra), embellished with shells and sea glass. When and how it came there I have no idea. A portal into the imagination?