Covid shots.

A rainbow and a crack of thunder from somewhere out at sea greet us as we head off down the path to the shore. It's nippy this morning. I very much doubt that the farmers wife will be going for a swim in these temperatures although her Jack Russells might.

The thunder unsettles the geese who take to the air and wheel over us cackling as they go. There must be five hundred a day still heading south down the coast.

Finally, the geese settle back down and continue their interrupted breakfast amid the  gleanings of the wheat field.

Down on the beach the wind is up and the sand blowing from the dunes down towards the sea. Dog owners, sensibly, opt to stay on the grass. 

Time for our flu and Covid jabs. We went on Monday only to find the clinic unexpectedly closed. We show up today expecting the place to be packed with the start of the week backlog but it isn't. There's the wife of a professor sitting on  a chair in reception and a nursing mother pacing backwards and forwards impatiently and then us. The staff open the doors punctually by which time another four folks have joined us in the waiting room.  The nurses are cheerful in that no nonsense Scottish way. Covid jabs go in the left arm, flu shots in the right. The lady in charge tells me it's fifty one weeks and four days since our last shots. " Don't forget to drink lots of water if you want to avoid any aches and pains " said matter of factly. She and her three colleagues manage to do fifteen hundred patients a day between them. We're in and out in six minutes.

The silent corridors on the way out tell me that people aren't bothered by Covid this year. I wonder if the staff will hit their fifteen hundred shot capacity ?

We now have a dog corner in the porch. The artist who painted the top picture ( sent by a kind lady PON owner in Atlanta ) got the colour of the local stone just right.

 Discovery of the day :https://cosmosmagazine.com/earth/oceans/virus-mariana-trench/