It’s apparently dry season in this tropical paradise. Except the rain clouds which loomed thick and grey and impenetrable on waking this morning demonstrate the exceptions to every rule. These are not rain clouds easily displaced by the prevailing winds which are now ominously absent.
The beach bag proves a perfect receptacle for channeling raindrops onto our books and I have no need to run a light wash over my ink sketch. The dampness in the air effortlessly provides a familiar wet blur to the lines and marks.
We hunker down with books and paper and coffee, and imagine ourselves to be back at the English seaside on a typical August summer day. Aah. Nostalgic days.