An Arbitrary Turn

Calendars aren't scientific. Time is, certainly, but calendars, that succession of days, weeks and months, is an arbitrary process, a compromise between the earth's rotation and the whims of various historical personages. So while the year as measured by the earth's rotation ends on the Winter Solstice, the calendar renews itself some 10 days later. Give or take the odd quarter day. Which we have to make up for every four years.

As if to emphasize the mistake, today was a stunner. Bloody cold, especially on the picnic bench eating cheddar and salad cream sandwiches, but a stunner nevertheless. Clover got to go in the sea, we walked up and down a beach, and in the process, the weather looked a lot like this ...

And the people looked like this ...

That was Widemouth Bay, an interesting name considering it doesn't, not now at least, mark the passage of any major river. Indeed, the topography doesn't give much impression of any pre-existing river system past the odd stream or two. No explanation then, not now at least.

I hope everybody who reads this had as good a day as we did.