What’s turning into a family tradition of walking (as far as we are able) along Hurst Spit on Christmas Day continued this year. I say family tradition… this is actually only the second year that we’ve done it, but who’s to say when something becomes a tradition anyway?
So, a tradition it is. This year’s been different though; usually it’s a massive overdose of turkey that prevents our making it all the way to the castle. Today is was driving, horizontal rain and a definite feeling that someone (other than the sultry kids dragged from their Christmas stockings) didn’t want us to be there. We made it about halfway before conceding the point.
The fact that we made it to the spit at all was something of an achievement in itself. I’ve seen the water over the road before, but I’ve never seen it this high. Such was the tide height, all of the marshes from the spit all the way to Keyhave sea wall had vanished. Keyhaven River had vanished – it was just clear water as far as the eye could see (which wasn’t far due to poor visibility… but it was far enough).
So back to the woodburner and turkey. Lovely.