Pebbles...

I haven't talked about pebbles much recently. You might remember that I have a very strong liking for them, particularly when they are made wet by the sea and shine as if they are lit by some bright internal light. I believe that some pebbles call out to you, make it impossible for you to pass them by so that you have to stoop and pick them up placing them carefully in your pocket.

Mind you, I also believe that some pebbles speak and others bring you luck and each one has a personality wrapped deep at its heart. No, I haven't talked about pebbles much recently; I haven't been to the beach too often you see. Damn these knees.

The best beach I have ever found for pebbles is Hell's Mouth in North Wales. The beach is made from huge pebble swathes inter-dispersed with grainy rough sand. It's long, miles long ,and often I used to walk it gazing down at the pebbles as I went. I once found one as big as a cricket ball and perfectly spherical, another a perfect egg and the size of a bag of sugar. But it's the colours to be found there that so bedazzle me - blood red, black ebony, smooth purple, yellow, cream, jade green and purest white.

Perhaps I'll go back there soon and see if one calls out to me, I can only hope that with its call it brings me luck.