48 HOURS

Amazing what a difference 48 hours can make in a full and active life. Last Friday morning, I took Barney down to Woolacombe beach for a last scamper before our 250 mile journey home. There are three miles of unbroken, sea-washed, silky smooth sand at Woolacombe and in all that space there were only two other people to be seen. So whilst Barney was scampering away, I did what I always like to do at places like that. I stood with my back to the wind , hearing the roar of the surf, watching the spindrift being kissed away from the peaks of the rollers and looking out on the ocean, breathing in the fresh, clean air. Perfect peace, a feeling of being alone but at one with the forces of nature. I enjoyed that.

Fast forward to Sunday. Home from Devon, driving up the M25 to Watford, parking the car, getting the train down to Wembley Central and meeting up with 51,593 other Saints fans (according to official Wembley Stadium figures) in a crowd of 73,476 to see Southampton beat Carlisle United 4-1 to win the Football League Trophy, aka the Johnstones Paint Trophy, in the national football stadium. That scene was a bit different:-

A memorable, raucous, noisy, joyous day spent with good friends in a fantastic stadium on a very special occasion. But it got me wondering which of the locations I had experienced in those 48 hours had been the most pleasing. I`m still wondering.