Yesterday it rained again, and cabin fever struck, so we went to Porlock Weir.
Which was all green, grey and pink.
The sun gleamed out for a moment, but that was all.
These little cottages will be reclaimed by the sea some day.
They flood when tides are particularly high, and are already equipped with automatic pumps in the downstairs floors, with kitchen cupboards on legs, work surfaces set higher than standard.
I talked once with a woman who lived in one of them, who told me that the loss of their homes was a possibility of which they were always aware, but that no one knew when it might happen, and could occur next year or in fifty years.
Creating the type of massive, costly sea defences that might preserve the village would also ruin its identity utterly. Better to accept the existing concept of 'managed retreat' and know that one day Porlock Weir would be under the tides again.
Meantime, she felt only gratitude that she was able to live in such a beautiful setting. It was a privilege, she said.
A wonderful sentiment.