A Shrimper slips off her berth, her reflected doppelganger following obediently beneath. The water surface is mercury smooth.
On a carefree, 'Wind in the Willows,' summer's day, they are heeding the Water Rat's advice to Mole: "There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."
The wind has fallen silent, exhausted by the extremes of its exertions, over the past few days. What zephyrs there are, carry the heat of the southern latitudes, from whence they came.
A Great Crested Grebe suns itself, between cooling dives for food.
The shoreline is still. Silent, save for the scrunch of shingle beneath my sandals, and birdsong in the trees.
A passage making force four or five, from the southwest, is forecast for tomorrow. And the tides are fair for the Essex shore. . . .
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