
My beautiful grandmother and I went for a long walk along the seafront this morning, to a neighbouring town. It's a place popular with holidaymakers (or 'grockles', as my great-grandmother calls them. I'm not sure of the spelling - or if there is an official spelling - so please tell me if you know!).


I love beach huts. They remind me of the Wendy-house I had when I was little - everything in miniature, right down to the little hob for the kettle! There is something quintessentially English about sheltering from the sand-speckled wind in your beach hut, drinking a cup of tea and eating a ginger biscuit (which you dunk in your tea, of course).
I can't believe we only have another four days here before we fly to L.A. It has gone past so quickly. I am already starting to miss everyone, even though I haven't left yet, and everything feels remembered and nostalgic even as it is happening - as if I'm looking back on it all from somwhere far in the future. It's awful living so far away from family, especially as they are all getting older.
P.S. A couple of you have asked how long I'm in the L.A. area. Only for four days! We're actually staying in Laguna Beach, not Newport Beach (which was the original plan).