Out to lunch.

What do you do when it is very grey and your phone promises nothing other than rain or drizzle, when all aound our small world people are trying to kill each other and the wrong people seem to be holding the power? We pulled on our woollies, pocketed an umbrella and went out for lunch.

We walked along the beach towards the centre of town. Quite a stiff breeze down at sea level so we walked quite briskly to Brasserie Blanc and arrived in their dining room before anyone else and with plenty of time to hum and haw over the menu.

I ordered pheasant and had to laugh when I realised that this was the first time that I've ever had to buy a meal of pheasant. At our previous home the gamekeeper used to hang a brace of pheasant on a hook outside our kitchen door. The shooters were out in the woods at either side of our property but none of them seemed to want to eat the birds that they had shot. More fool them! In childhood pheasant plucking was a regular seasonal task. In more recent times we took the lazy route of just skinning the birds.

I chose a rhubarb trifle for dessert to continue the nostalgic theme. It made me glad that I'd visited the allotment briefly last Saturday to put a forcing pot over one of my rhubarb plants.

Then we walked back along the beach, this time with the wind behind us. Just the thing to chase away the blues.