ANOTHER wretched month for inspiration and precious metal prices so we did the only rational thing and had a weekend trying to forget everything at the seaside.
Whatever the weather I love the sea: The light, huge skies, distant horizons, the sound of surf and gulls, the textures of the rocks, even the smell of rotting seaweed.
Friday and Saturday were picture perfect, those first delicious days of the year when the mercury rises, the jumper comes off and you get sunburn because it has not yet occurred to you to pack suncream in March.
On Sunday though a heavy sea fret rolled over Filey like cold rice pudding and it was glorious, magical.
The sea and horizon melted into silvery nothingness like a film set waiting for Morgan Freeman to appear in a white suit.
My phone could not do it justice of course but here are some pictures anyway.
Erica Madelin 