After an enjoyable late evening spent chatting with our friends it took a while to get up this morning. It was a pleasant surprise to find that the day was dry, more or less. We had a leisurely breakfast while Peter went off for an early row and then the day flowed by until it was time for a lunch of pizza. Feeling that we desperately needed some exercise we jumped in a car and went for a walk at Morthoe. It wasn't the best of ideas to go down into the Kinevor valley as the path was very muddy & slippery in places but I had thought it would get us away from the holidaymakers and the fierce wind. 
It was refreshing to stand on the beach at Bennet's Mouth looking across the waves to Wales before tackling the steep climb to the top of the cliff. From our vantage point we could see large grey clouds - overhead, and small patches of blue - in the distance. From the Bull Point lighthouse us girls took the shorter route back along the lighthouse road while Sam, Linas & Milo the dog went the longer way around the coast. (Peter was too tired after his rowing to come out for a walk.)
Before we left Morthoe we investigated the churchyard as Sam looked for, and found, the grave of a young lady, daughter of Sir Walter Foster, who drowned in the sea aged 21.
Following a supper of chicken tikka we watched a dvd of my Scilly Isles photos which Alex had kindly put onto a dvd for me using a programme that went from one picture to the next in an interesting variety of ways. I enjoyed reliving the holiday while Kate and Alex gamely watched frame after frame of gigs racing on the sea followed by views of small islands and then Tresco Gardens.
It was refreshing to stand on the beach at Bennet's Mouth looking across the waves to Wales before tackling the steep climb to the top of the cliff. From our vantage point we could see large grey clouds - overhead, and small patches of blue - in the distance. From the Bull Point lighthouse us girls took the shorter route back along the lighthouse road while Sam, Linas & Milo the dog went the longer way around the coast. (Peter was too tired after his rowing to come out for a walk.)
Before we left Morthoe we investigated the churchyard as Sam looked for, and found, the grave of a young lady, daughter of Sir Walter Foster, who drowned in the sea aged 21.
Following a supper of chicken tikka we watched a dvd of my Scilly Isles photos which Alex had kindly put onto a dvd for me using a programme that went from one picture to the next in an interesting variety of ways. I enjoyed reliving the holiday while Kate and Alex gamely watched frame after frame of gigs racing on the sea followed by views of small islands and then Tresco Gardens.
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