Not really sat on a bench; more a piece of driftwood on a sand dune, and apparently (so I’m told) not even on Holy Island! I didn’t know there were more than one and this one seems nice enough already, so what’s the problem!
As you can see, it was all green, blue and brown. Erm, and flecks of white. And, um … Okay, I admit it – I can’t remember a darned thing about what you see on this photo. The whole experience of being on the wrong Holy Island has been homogenised into a single lump of memory that’s devoid of detail.
Oh, sure, I remember all sorts of random facts and experiences abiutbl the island, like: the local woman that was wrong when she told us we couldn’t get to the beach (there was a rope to climb down), the fishermen that didn’t get washed out to sea (they waded to shore to beat the tide), the strange shape on the beach that looked like it had a face (it was a dead seal), the people swimming in the North Sea in autumn (albeit not for long), the sunburn I came home with (having been told I would need to carry a boat for the rain-floods) and the list goes on and on. But none of it relates to this bench and the view from it.
Still, it was nice. And sometimes that’s more than adequate.
And if you want some more – you can always go there yourself. Wherever it was.
Oh wait – just remembered – you get to the place by going over the Lindisfarne Causeway. Bring wellies. 😃