Many, many moons ago, an English teacher read us a poem that ended with a stanza about the waves being an angry sea-hound hurling intself on the rocks and eventually lying exhausted on the sand. Although I was not exactly 'in to' poetry at the time, I loved the imagery then, and it was the first thing that came to mind when I opened the shutters today. Our hound was growling all night. Even at home we sleep with our bedroom window ajar all year, so it is open here too, and whenever we stirred we could hear the wind and the waves. This morning I went up on the roof and watched huge brown and grey waves breaking far out to sea, building again and crashing on the rocks below me. The wind whipped the tops off them as they broke, and the rocks just below the surface made the final break an uneven line of white foam. It was exciting, so I put on my jacket and went to walk along the beach, revelling in the noise and motion of it all. I think exhilarating is the word I want, and in its own way, it was just as beautiful as the sparkling blue of a sunny day. When I reached the far end of the bay I was surprised to find that every bit of the old, dry weed had disappeared. It's usually ankle deep all along the water edge, but today there was just a shelf with a two foot drop to the sea. No doubt it will get washed in again soon. While I was on the beach I spoke to the man from the flat in front of us. He has been here for five years and he said he has never seen the water come so far up the beach. It was above the line where the residents often park their cars. I'm posting a couple of photos here and some more on my gallery. Unfortunately our signal is not strong enough to add a video. You really need the wind and the noise to properly appreciate it all. According to the forecast, there is more to come before it perks up again on Monday.