When I sat with my cuppa and gingerbread the other day, I took these photos out of the Family Room window.
This was taken before the hail shower came.
And the rest were taken during a heavy shower.
Everything went so grey.
Any writer, poet or composer who is suffering from writer's block, or the musical equivalent, ought to go to the coast. I'm no musician, but I can hear music when I watch the waves crashing onto the rocks, rise gracefully into the air and, almost in slow motion, pour over the rocks and back into the sea.