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WordPress had other ideas when I sat down to write my usual Sunday evening post a few days ago. I became more and more frustrated as my photos refused to upload, particularly as I knew there would be very little time for blogging later in the week. I eventually gave up and retired to bed in a sulk.

Clicking publish on each instalment of my regular weekend post has become something of a ritual, marking the end of one week and the beginning of the next. To skip it is to remain in limbo. Not quite here, not quite there.

While I’ve manged to steal half an hour on a Wednesday evening to write this, the most important memories, the tiny details I condense into bullet points each week, will have to go unrecorded. They were washed away in the first early morning shower of the week, dispersed as I stomped my way to school with the children, and finally drowned out by the white noise of work and domesticity.

Pictures tell part of the story though. Saturday was about the beach. Not sunshine and sand castles, but a windy, wet walk to Dawlish. The children were in their element as we made our way along the coastal path, flanked by train tracks on one side and the water’s edge on the other. There were salty chips for lunch, devoured eagerly as we sheltered from the drizzle and looked out over the waves rushing into shore. We spent all our loose change in the arcade before wearily boarding the train back to Exeter. Once home, the children dozed on the sofa, exhausted, but content.

Anyway, better luck next Sunday I guess.

Love Audrey xxx

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