On my last holiday of which you’ve just seen some of the pictures,
What brought it to mind was, sitting with my favourite tipple and pouring the contents into a well worn and handled glass; I remembered.
After a long hard slog down to the secluded cove I now think of as my own, past dog poo alley (“ all the locals use this bit”) through the freshly built national trust lambing gates and across the cow pat infested field,
All around, the sight of mature trees and native shrubs caught my eye with blossoms of multi coloured knotted carrier bags swinging in the afternoon breeze.
“Dog owners think it’s alright to pick up the mess then lob the offending matter in neatly tied bag into yonder”
(Looks like poo feels like poo smells like poo good job I didn’t tread in it,)
“Sand and dog do do’s don’t mix with your flip-flops”
Anyway, down at the beach the usual assortment of flotsam and jetsam,
Bits of rope, coke cans, He man figures???.
Something caught my eye glistening in the sun and surf….
A bottle!!
“That looks a little 18th century to me”
F….A…..N…..T…A
“There’s something inside it”
If I was going to send a message in a bottle it wouldn’t be that!
What would you send?

Sorry, I totally was blindsided as soon as I saw F….A…..N…..T…A.

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