In this reverie I calculate I've walked at a good pace for twenty minutes or so. I'm at the fluffy sand and appear to have caught up with the white poodle, who's now plastered in sand and chomping on a stick which has some seaweed hanging from it.
Always loved chamomile, probably on account of the fact that I used to eat daisies as a kid. Pick the petals off and eat the yellow bit. I still would today, if I found the right daisy.
While I'm pouring my coffee and screwing the lid on I then wonder whether my Chromebook is shower-proof. 'I'd expect so, most laptop keyboards are mounted on a kind of membrane aren't they?' my recently retired tech brain started whirring. 'You're not going to type a thousand words in the rain, are you?'
Once the riders confirm it's safe to 'go', the one in the front loosens her rein a bit and faces forward. It's first stride is full stretch from the back legs, the rider leans forward and in a single pace is at full gallop. The gallop is the only pace where a horse lifts all four feet off the floor and reach speeds of up to thirty miles per hour. To explain it plainly, its like standing on the roof of a car at that speed.
My mind wanders briefly to the moment I'm going to have to get the sand out of my trainers when I get back, but if that's the only problem I have today, that'll do.
On the bottom step I feel the need to stretch out a bit before I start my walk so I do that, waving at the beach wardens truck going by. There are six or seven gulls sitting on the sea wall rocks who just look at me, like a scene out of a Hitchcock movie. I start walking, the gulls scatter.