Funeral blues

And when it all got too much, we went to - actually, it all got too much about nine days ago, but everything came to a climax today and I just had to get away and sit on a beach for an hour or two, letting the sound of the waves empty my mind.

Our destination Ladye Bay, a tiny pebbled cove to the north of Clevedon ...

... with views upstream to the Skirrid near Abergavenny, directly across to Newport, and just to the left, Mynydd Machen, Mynydd Maen and Twmbarlwm, then downstream to Cardiff ... 

... and ultimately, on this side of the estuary, Clevedon Pier, a mile or so to the south.  

The beach was small enough for Cwtch to potter about on her own a bit, which she really enjoyed ... 

... although we had to make sure she didn't get too close to other families to bother them. (We weren't the only escapees from Queen Elizabeth's funeral.) 

On our way down the M5, we'd seen a helicopter flying north and I'd joked with Son the Younger that it was taking number plates to see who wasn't mourning appropriately. Then two more flew up the coast ... 

... followed presently by a raven, which might even have flown down from the Tower of London, who knows in this present climate of zero tolerance for dissent.

As usual, I was on the look-out for treasure. This curlew feather, for instance ... 

... and masses of sea glass - in fact, I don't think I've ever picked up so much sitting on the spot. The only thing is, the pieces are mostly tiny. I could only safely empty my pockets once we were back home.

I could have stayed there for ever, but eventually it was time to depart, especially as Son the Younger was due to drive back to Rugby and another early morning shift at work. It was good, though, to spend a couple of hours outside of time and away from a prescribed narrative I don't share.  And what a find in lovely Ladye Bay. I will be back.