There's not a lot of bugs in England, but I just managed to sit down on a small ant hill, alive with small black creatures, scurrying & carrying their loads across the cliff top. I was trying to plant my bum firmly behind a tussocky mound so I could look out at the view calmly and not worry too much where the edge was. I've moved to the left now ... still feeling safe and these meadowy grasses providing nice comfort for the bum. Of course one questions safety at these moments for many reasons...
The Bean is strapped in her car seat, which is attached to the large rock behind me with two climbing nuts and some slings. She's sucking her thumb whilst snoozing and snuffling - obviously unpertubed by the height, but maybe a little irritated by the wind. That's the scene behind me.
The one in front sees Charlie halfway up a fin of rock, clinging deftly to some sparse holds whilst the sea crashes around the rocks below all green and churning and relentless with it's whooshing noise. Charlie's belt of rock climbing nuts and cams is slowly getting smaller as they're carefully wedged in bomber placements. Gilly's waiting below for her turn to follow behind and strip them all out again. Those two are joined at the hip - harnesses and otherwise...
So it seems that everyone's strapped to this Cornish cliff except me. The longer I sit, the more my vertigo subsides and those random, irrational thoughts of 'What if.." ebb away. Now, after settling in and scribbling these notes I can glance up and take in this beautiful rocky coastline. The meadows go right up to the edge and I'm amused by the cows who stand around all day with the best views in all Britain.
