My house resembles a travelogue of places visited; I print them off on ordinary photocopy paper and paste them on my walls. It's a lovely way to permanently live my holidays, but even I can't display all the places and all the memories.
I also have a series of slides running as the background on my desk computer which change every ten seconds and it was during one of these I noticed a series of photographs I had completely forgotten.
Taken in 2016, I was on my way down to the beach for an early stroll before I had a decent coffee at the cafe along the bay.
As I took my usual route, along the river overflow, I came across a herd of goats happily grazing. Although you can't see them here, the chickens were there too with their accompanying cockerel keeping a watchful eye.
He saw me before I saw them to be honest and gave the alarm call. The hens gathered their chicks together and scurried under the nearest caster oil plant whilst the cockerel gave a menacing eye.
Being polite I skirted him and his precious group, moving quietly among the goats, who, I would add, were not in the least bit interested in me.
It reminded me of when my mother and I had come to Tenerife all those years ago and had had to shoo goats out of the way to get to the beach even then.
I emerged from under the roadway bridge and entered the gardens; my first sight of the sea in all her glory; she was calm that day and I knew later I would be in there, enjoying the spray and the waves.
My eyes filled with the sights of Puerto Cruz, I could smell the air and hear the buzz of the bees, the crash of the waves on the black, shingle beach; what a memory to relive.
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