Sunday, 9 September 2018

At the Other End of the Line

Just ignore Cutie-Pie up there (last seen here) -
she's trying to lull you into a false sense of security
 Beyond the End-of-the-Line, past the Kingdom of the Crab People and the Chalk Rafts of Verstrandt, and even further on than the final stop of the NightShip, lies a realm where science is scorned, magic is an annoyance, and reality is something that happens to other people.

 Yes!  Join me on yesterday's journey to the Other-End-of-the-Line!


What is this trickery?  A cliff face and its mini-me?  It can only occur beyond...

… the End-of-the Line!

The colourful clay cliffs of Cl...  No. It's no good.  I can't get Sidestrand to start with "C"

Well, this looks dreary.  I thought things were supposed to be exciting beyond...

… the End-of-the-Line?  Jinkies!  It's a long way behind us.

That "peculiar object" is still there.  Just.  But what's that speck in the distance?
(If you click the link, scroll down about halfway.  Oh, and read the comments as Eros has described it all beautifully)

Uh, oh.  She's at it again.  Hussy.

We made it!  The Other-End-of-the-Line!  I'm not going any further, though.  Remember what I said at the beginning of this post about what lies beyond?

's a bit wonky.  Must have a large cormorant problem here (despite only a few in evidence in this photo)

Oh, cripes. I've got to trudge all the way back, now.

You again!  You don't fool me with your adorable looks.

Hey!  Where are you going?

Good riddance!

Oh, I see.  Stalking from the safety of the sea, eh?

After a long walk back, I finally passed the End-of-the-Line

Not far from home now

A final look back.  Hang on. What's that speck on the shore line?

Oh, just stop it.
(She followed me all the way back here.  Swimming along in the surf, poking her head out regularly to make sure I was still there.  And when I got back to Overstrand and had to head up the beach to walk around a small lagoon, she heaved herself out onto the sand and gave me this look)

The view between two groynes


 And here's a couple of photos from this afternoon's foray down to the beach:

The fossilised imprint of something (tree bark? dinosaur skin?) in chalk.
For scale, the belemnite is just over 47mm long, or 1 ¹¹/₁₆ inches in old money (and for Americans)

Vos Gorgeous (and interloper)


  1. I think it is a good thing that you always carry the fossilised cigar stump with you for good measurment.
    Being someone who has lived always inland and hence is totally unaware to the coastal fauna - can you please give me an idea how large "Cutie Pie" is ? I simply have no idea whether it's the monstrum septentrionale as such, or a tinycuddlybaby-monster.

    1. Actually, I picked that "fossilised cigar stump" out of the next rock pool over, and measured it when I got home ;) Although, now that you've inserted the idea into my head, I shall take it out on future walks for "good measure"!

      Cutie Pie the young grey seal is probably just over a metre or so long (she wouldn't stay still enough for me to measure how many belemnites make up her length!), and she'll grow to twice that as she becomes an adult (or nearly three times if she is, in fact, a boy). So, not quite a "Monster of the North".

  2. Fanny Cradock has obviously possessed you in fury at your comments about her cooking: I can't really picture anyone other than you and she actually measuring sixteenths of an inch.
    In fact she's so furious she's made the cliff look like her white Christmas cake. I feel the fossilized imprint is something to do with Johnny.

    1. Measuring sixteenths of an inch is a bloody bugger! Almost as much as oiling the greaseproof paper on both sides (I mean, really).

      The cliff does look like its been F****ed, though, doesn't it. I wonder if she popped down here on Friday night to marzipan and fondant it to within an inch (no sixteenths) of its life?

  3. Is that a fossilised jumper? Well, part of a jumper, like a sleeve.
    Awwww..... you have a new familiar!

    1. So, what you're saying is that dinosaurs didn't have feathers after all, they knitted themselves jumpers to keep warm?

  4. I was thinking the fossilised imprint reminded me of a J-cloth, or Chux, those things many people use as dish cloths (scultures use 'em to get snakeskin impressiions on wet clay)
    And then you go on about Fanny Craddock.Well! That confirms it-she's been Fannying around on your strand and left her dish cloth!

    1. I take back my agreement with Ms Scarlet - you've knocked the nail on the head, Dinah! F**** Craddock is certainly old enough to have fossilised dishcloths...

    2. It looks more like Fanny's cheese-grater to me! Nice groyne shots again, btw - and you being cruised by Halichoerus grypus ("hooked-nosed sea pig") is a new one on me. I wonder what its Grindr profile reads like? "No Otariids, please"? Jx

    3. There's something so very obscene about F****'s grater, that I'd rather hook up with the sea pig than think about it any more! I'd better Sellotape my ears back...

  5. It's a fossilized snood!

    PS: Everything should be measured in Belemnites! "The Millennium Falcon made the Kessel Run in 12 Belemites." — Han Solo

    1. I know snoods haven't been in fashion for a long while, and now I know what happened to them all. Thanks, LẌ!

      I'm just going to put some music on. How about the Rolling Stones' "Moonlight Belemnite"? Or Aerosmith's "Big Ten Belemnite Record"?

  6. Hello, Gorgeous, Baby Seal!

    And Ahoy, Vos Gorgeous (and foto bombing interloper)!

    What marvelous and magnificent fotos! What a beautiful day!

    The cliffs look intriguing. The beach shots are stunning. And that Flintstones dinosaur tire track looks fantastic! That stone age d̶i̶l̶d̶o̶- ear cleaner looks big and shiny!

    But the most enchanting fotos are definitely of the gorgeous baby seal! What a charming and lovely Selkie!

  7. She wants you to chase after her into the sea, the shameless Lolita.

    Fanny Craddock's piss pot?

    1. I did wonder, but if F**** Craddock has been pissing in or near it, I'd rather not...


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