Grey and damp on Breydon this morning. A low mist turned to steady rain as I headed out along the south wall. I should probably have stayed at home. Earlier – in the warm and dry – I’d been watching seals from the study window. Yesterday it was a small group of Gannets diving like missiles off the Outer Harbour. But not today. Today it was walking and weather.
There was little bird life to be seen from the boardwalk. In the shadow of the Roman wall I looked out across the reedbeds to Haddiscoe Island hoping for bearded tits. (Not this time.) There were godwits and peewits on the exposed mud, a few wood pigeons in the air and thrushes in among the hawthorn berries. But pretty soon my glasses were rained on and the scope and binoculars too – so my already limited ID skills were quickly exhausted. But it was still perversely pleasurable walking.
Diggers had been at work clearing the dykes behind the wall, the spoil piled neatly on the grazing marsh. New fencing too.
I walked as far as the Tide Jetty, the remains just visible above the water in the mist and rain. Rehearsals start in February. Meeting with composer Chris Warner in a week or so. We need to find a way of bottling some of this Breydon atmosphere.