I had a sort of adventure this morning. I was on the beach at Skouthaki. The sky was grey and threatening, and the grey roiling sea, breaking on the wide curve of shingle that formed the shoreline. (Hope my English Language tutor looks at this, maybe I can score some marks there, as well!) I love it when the weather is like that, as long as I am warm.
I was counting the waves because, according to tradition every seventh wave is bigger, but I didn't know when to start counting? I thought I'd solved it, I just had to wait for an extra big wave, that would be number seven, then start counting from the next one. Flawed logic, as my Pitera would no doubt be quick to point out. How could I know that the next wave after the one I thought the biggest, wouldn’t be even bigger.
Then this wave came in, bigger than all the rest. There was a bird, black against the sky, screeching as if in warning. I felt sort of weird. And the next moment I must have looked sort of weird, flat on my back with the wave trying to wash me back out to sea. I was trying to empty the water out of my boots, standing on one foot, and shaking out the other boot. Something really painful hit my foot (the bootless one) and in my shock I dropped the boot and another wave grabbed it and tried to carry it out to sea.
Once I'd retrieved the boot, I started looking around to see if I could see what it was that had fallen out of my boot. And then, in the water, I saw it!
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