It was twisting, rolling up the beach like a live beast. At the castle it blew across the lawns and over hedges like a ghost horse. We came for Easter, spring sunshine, lambs and so on. Instead we got cold and a creepy fog following us around.
It felt like we were stuck in a Victorian period drama, like a seaside Jack the Ripper was waiting at the end of the pier, hiding within the fog, waiting for victims to enter his trap. We stayed away from the pier.
All in all you could say it was a disappointing trip.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
