Padstow

We’ll take the boys in the morning to skip and splash the pools as we watch the sand blown by slight winds over dunes to the left and the blue sea pulls it’s current away north to leave a vast shift of sands. By night we come home and we collect ice creams to gallop down our gullets while craftful sea birds aspire to more touristy fayre. As we weave our ways with melting summer ices there we spy thee and ponder your reason to hiss welcome to vulturous gulls. And halt to watch your tumbling and rousting of the grey and whites. I craven and dower am slightly emitting cider apple tones to variegate the dull holiday somnambulant you endear here. I looked at fat bellied and walrus faced holiday seekers who otherwise hide with index finger on channel up/down and already heading home without having left quiet yet.

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