It was a dark and stormy night. No it wasn’t. It was a beautiful warm sunny day when I went to the beach with the mutt. We played pesky splish splosh ball in the river bend and then headed back to dry land. As I was emerging out of the bushes I heard a car come down the track. I glanced over my shoulder and it was something you don’t often see on that beach. It was a two tone Rolls Royce.

Nonchalantly I didn’t give it a second glance. They parked next to me and smiled. I waved and smiled, as one does here. Out came two ladies and two gentlemen, asked if this was Port Mary. Well yes, it’s the Abbey Burnfoot… Good, they said. I went down to the water’s edge and played ball with Katie, insanely curious who they are. One of the men came to speak to me and I said “You are lucky, that it is such a nice day and the tide is out. Otherwise there would be nothing much to see. The tide comes right up to where the lady there is sitting” and pointed at the shore. “And it’s often foggy and wet here.”

We exchanged some niceties and off I went, heading for the shore. I stopped to exchange some niceties with the lady, subtly trying to find out why they were there. They came from London, well, near London… Her husband is writing a book, doing research here. Och aye, I thought, looked more like a jolly to me. The daughter is taking pictures for it. Nice. Somehow we came to talk about the elections and I said I couldn’t vote as I still have only my Finnish passport. She said she thought my accent wasn’t local. We talked about Finland.

She had been to Finland because of her husband’s writing. Then the other gentleman arrived and the lady said I had told her that that there is the remains of the pier where boats were launched. We had a wee chat. As I was loading the dog into car the daughter arrived, she needed a fresh battery for the camera. She told me she lives in California and can’t let the dogs run loose on the beach. How sad is that, we thought. As I was getting into car I asked when this book was going to be out. Oh, another couple of years, she said, it’s called…(‘Column’ featured in the title…). And just as I was climbing into the car she said “…and the author is Ken Follett…” All I could think of saying was “You mean THE Ken Follett?” “Yes”. And all I managed to say to that  was “Wow”. And left. So, I had been chatting to Ken Follett, his wife and daughter.

Afterwards of course I was annoyed. Sod’s law is I had on my awful doggy walk over trousers but at least I didn’t have my wax jacket which is so disgusting a tramp wouldn’t have it.

Later I thought, instead of talking about mundane boring things I should have given him a more interesting yarn. I should have said that this is the beach where Mary Queen of Scots left for England. She was followed by the paparazzi. Jock the Hack, quill quivering shouting “Mary Doll, how long are you going to be away, what do you hope to achieve during this visit?!” And in hot pursuit Sketch Gordon, charcoal poised on drawing pad, saying “Give us a smile Mary Doll, just half an hour and I’ll have it ready…” They pushed Jock and Gordon over the pier just as Jock was shouting “Now Mary Doll, don’t lose you head. London is a big dangerous place, people take advantage of you!” Gordon’s sketch was, however, already ruined as it had started raining and the charcoal ran in streaks down the pad. “Oh bugger, said Gordon.

I often find interesting things on the beach but never a Ken Follett before.

I am ready for Spring Fling. All treasures spread out in the studio. Welcome!