Bamburgh, despite the idyllic looking scene below, was blowing a gale. It was the dog's first experience of a beach walk, and she was deeply unimpressed.
Her ears were pinned against her head by the icy blasts, and she walked behind us the whole way, her human (and unfortunately inadequate) windbreak.
The sun didn't last.
My OH, who was left in charge of the dog while I pounded the Edinburgh streets with the girls, found Coldingham Sands, over the border in Scotland. We left the girls behind the next day to "do their homework". Coldingham is a wonderful rock pool beach, but unfortunately it is nearly impossible to explore rock pools when you have a labrador who is convinced the best way of helping you investigate a rock pool is to march through it, several times.
To give the poor sea creatures some peace, we walked on to St Abb's Head. We looked back to Coldingham, where a horse and rider had appeared: they did one beautiful collected canter circle around the beach, and then left.
The dog would not even consider going in the sea at Bamburgh (and still didn't when we went back later in the week) but Coldingham was different.
I admit I can never predict what teenagers will and won't like (other than to be pretty certain that anything Mum likes is well and truly off the menu) but Lindisfarne went down really well. The Abbey is having some consolidation done, but most of it is still accessible. Every time I look at it, I am still amazed that something so ornate and solid simply ends.
Sparrows have become rare now - and that's something I never thought I'd write. There were plenty around in Lindisfarne, who mobbed us for our lunch.
Exmoors are also pretty rare, and rather out of their native territory in Seahouses, which was where we found this one. Presumably they are well suited to that dry seaside grass.