Saturday 6 April 2019

Someone is monitoring my groyne!


Nice day for it
 Right.  Now that Bryce's Bum is out in the open, I thought it was about time to get back to that laziest form of blog posts: photos from a walk on the beach.
 These photos are all from Thursday's foray out into the fresh air.  And talking of lazy, I actually got Broom out and flew down there because I couldn't be bothered to walk!
 As always, click the pics to embigulate.

Broom managed to get to something approaching what one might call "altitude", allowing these photos of magnificent, yet barren, landscapes.

Just look at the strata of the cliffs.  This is easily missed unless one is flying hundreds of millimetres overhead


I commanded Broom to swoop down and fly over a sheltered inlet before...

... reaching the sea, then...

... heading back to shore to begin perambulations.

The Thames Guardian whizzing past

Ow!  My groyne!  Someone has attached monitoring devices (no relation) to it.

 And now we come to the part that you've all been waiting for:  The Groyne Monitors!
 I reached the End-of-the-Line, and discovered that someone had attached some sort of monitoring devices (although, they've spelt it wrong) to my* massive groyne.  And the perpetrators were arrogant enough to leave their calling card!
 This is them - ScanLAB Projects - I wonder what they hope to discover?  Other than getting a pounding now and again, this groyne isn't getting much in the way of action...

End-of-the-Line, complete with monitoring devices

Looking West along Overstrand beach from the platform atop the End-of-the-Line

Something for Dinahmow: two knobs on a groyne!

Ah.  The sun's coming out

Almost looks summery, doesn't it?

This big groyne is basking in the sun

"Oh, crap.  It's that bloody witch with his camera."

"I'm out of here.  Byeeeee!"


* OK, so it's not mine per se, but I clamber all over it and end up astride it often enough to claim it.

16 comments:

  1. I always come away with the impression that you're not a man afraid to get his knees wet!
    Tsk, these blog posts always make me want to move to the coast.
    Sx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And your impression is correct. Although, only between the months of May and October...

      Delete
  2. The triangular monitoring devices are obviously of Illuminati origin!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, no. Not again. And I'm right out of Illuminati repellant spray.

      Delete
  3. With no disrespect your groyne is quite unkempt and needs a good wash down. You want it nice if a stranger takes an interest, don't you!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well, I suppose so. It has seen better days, I grant you. Oh, look, here's someone willing to give it a rub down - Hello, Maddie!

      Delete
  4. Someone attached some sort of monitoring device to your massive groyne?

    Would it help if I rubbed it?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You'll have to clear your diary, Mistress Maddie. Hound seems to think it's quite a big job.

      Delete
  5. Can't help IDV, but "Slapco" sounds more like a Bond villain than a trusty groyne meter.

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    Replies
    1. Then I had better borrow my sister's cats and dust down the spinning leather chair...

      Delete
  6. I wonder what ScanLAB's intentions are for your groyne? Imagine a digital replica of that! I shall be "montoring" their website periodically for updates.

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    Replies
    1. I keep meaning to email them to find out, but I haven't got around to it yet. I hope it's not for some cheap and tawdry groyne app, like Groyndr or somesuch...

      Delete
  7. My sodding reader is messing about again! And I've missed all your posts and you even had a knbbly groyne, especially for me! Oh, thank you.
    Now I shall gird my loins and do battle with Google's bloody reader.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. At least you found it in the end. I'm glad you did, as I immediately thought of you when I saw those two knobs sticking out of that groyne!

      Delete
    2. You are, indeed, a treasured fiend.

      Delete
    3. A fiend, you say? Well, I've been called worse...

      Delete

Tickle my fancy, why don't you?