Ahh, the sacrifices we make in the name of love.
I had agreed to stay with Zoe and her family for christmas day this year, which meant that my yearly tradition of getting up ridiculously early and walking along Dymchurch beach to watch the sunrise would be broken. Aside from seeing my family and eating a butt load of food, that was one of my favorite things about christmas.
Still, Zoe had agreed that when we went to stay with my parents for a few days after christmas, I was allowed to abandon her in the warmth of our bed to go off and take as many early morning pictures as I desired. Bargain! Naturally I decided to take up residence on the shingle of Dungeness beach, one of my favorite haunts for picture taking and general solitude.
So in the post christmas days before I had to go back to work and reality, we spent most of our time visiting relatives. The yearly Boxing-day-tea-at-grans-house is probably the largest migratory gathering of Wellers in the south of England, if not the world. God only knows what would happen if they stopped taking place. Its also a great opportunity to load up on cheese straws, scones, cold meats, and cakes and buns to last you at least a week so its always worth bringing a bag or two. Me and Zoe are still working our way through all the joints of pork and lamb that Dad gave us (he’s a farmer, not just someone who likes to give away frozen meats). We estimate that we wont need to go shopping again until at least February.
We spent the rest of our time eating leftover food, helping Dad put up a fence, and walking along the beach playing with the washed up jellyfish we kept finding. There must have been a storm out to sea that pushed them all this way, as they were much bigger than the little ones we occasionally get, and there were so many of them too. Surprisingly heavy, is a jelly fish.