Worthless and priceless.

The sea still thundering away . This morning it has upped its roar to low throttle jet engine. Boy, is it noisy. Sophie wanders down to the coast, glares at the seabirds and seals and wanders home. She seems oblivious to the noise. I get a text from a friend giving a think tank speech on Ukraine. He wants to know if his closing line is OTT. It's a John Quincy Adams quote 'I am a warrior so that my son may be a merchant, so that his son may be a poet '.  Doesn't seem OTT at all to me ; just pertinently real.

En route back through the long grass there is time to detour and  drink at length from a puddle that's been refilled by the overnight rain. This requires intense PONette concentration.

After a brisk toweling dry Sophie is loaded into the back of the car and we head off into town. We're going to the picture framers by the cathedral .

When we left France the mayor, the old mayor and the town councillors had a small ceremony and gave us a farewell present - the oldest plate they had in the village museum. This was handed over to us by a gaggle of village pre-schoolers. In the middle ages the small corner of paradise that was our previous home was a thriving pottery centre. The plate they gave us was from the early 15th century .

Some might see something cracked and battered . For others it radiates a well honed beauty. Against all the odds it has survived wars, plagues, revolutions and generations of sharp elbowed village  teenagers. Now it has a safe home here in the North.  The local picture framer has taken three months to get it ready. He has made calls  to museums to find the best way of displaying it -  soft plastic supports,  acid free mounts and light softening glass. Not something that we asked or expected him to do. He has understood that the plate is in one sense worthless but in an other sense priceless.

We are once again reminded of the intelligence, care and kindness of strangers.

This new hotel in Madrid looks cool :https://www.od-hotels.com/ocean-drive-madrid