Weston Shore was the only beach I knew for many years. It's mostly shingle and mud, with the occasional patch of sand; I used to find books like Holiday by the Sea very perplexing, when they went on about beautiful golden sands etc. You don't need a bucket and spade to build castles at Weston, you need a ruddy bulldozer.
Anyway. it's a nice place to go for a walk, when you aren't seven years old and pining for sand. And on the way there we realised that it's blackberry-picking time, yay! and I haven't picked blackberries in England for years and years cos I've been expatriated so long, so yay! but we didn't have anything to put blackberries in.
Happily for us, there was a fair bit of litter washed up on the beach (there always is, okay? This is the Solent. No-one said it was clean), and in no time we had two nice plastic containers with lids, which we pretty soon filled up with luscious blackberries. I also found sweet peas growing wild, and I picked a bunch of them because when you pick sweet peas they flower more so it isn't antisocial to pick them. Down to the shore again for a bit of string to tie the bunch together, and another plastic box, and soon enough I had a big box of shiny black blackberries and bright cerise-pink flowers. Awfully pretty.
Then we got ice-cream, because one of the peculiarities of the English is that they think a proper summer ought to involve walking along a shingle beach in a howling gale eating ice-cream, although if you are over 65 you may sit in your car while you are eating. No matter how revolting the weather, there is always an ice-cream van at windswept points on shingle beaches, manned by a hermit who will make jokes about the weather.
There'll be a Torah post eventually, honest there will. Anybody got anything they'd particularly like me to write about?