The writing doldrums . . .

Some days aren’t meant to be writing days, or if they are, the inspiration is so low that one seeks diversion.  Time away from quill skill.  So the dogs and I go to the beach.  They do their obligatory sniff and so do I, although mine is just to breathe in the scent of waves, salt and seaweed  with my nose twitching in the air, whilst theirs is at ground level.  I look along the beach: 2 kilometres of white sand.  And we do it, the dogs and I.

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