By John Barlow.
I take an impromptu day off from working and sit with my sons on a stony beach. The youngest, Ben, sits contentedly, picking up pebble after pebble. Jake, who’s 2¼, has given up clambering, and filling his brother’s hood with stones until he toppled over, and now has my binoculars round his neck. I set them to focus in the middle distance, taking in the rocks and Ynys Seiriol. He’s using them well, and must be able to see the lighthouse and the island, and maybe some of the gulls that drift by occasionally. Maybe. Every time I ask if he’s seen something he replies enthusiastically. “Nearly.”
some of the dots in the distance
may be puffins