Give me socks every day.

 Today I decided to wear a skirt I bought for peanuts in the Spring sale, which required me to wear tights.  I had to google it to remember how to put them on.  Despite the fact the tights were labelled small, at 5 feet nothing I still felt I should have them up to my chin for them to fit right without looking like Nora Batty (Last of the Summer Wine).  But I still looked like Nora, so dug out some long legged boots and tucked the surplus down their legs.  Making sure the waistband is in the right position totally threw me as I havent had a waist for some considerable years.  But the tights  fitted nicely under the lower edge of my bra.

So - swanning out - feeling like a woman, (tortured) I went to Cafe Connect to sort out their producing the OFFICIAL CHRISTMAS CARD FOR THE LIGHTHOUSE MUSEUM from our winner of the Christmas Card Challenge.  Challenge?  I had all on to find the 'stick' given to me by the DP, which contained the picture and the Lighthouse Logo, in my power driven woman's handbag.  This contains phone, camera, diary, chewing gum, inhaler, scissors, masking tape, various lists on odd bits of paper, sweeteners, business cards, loyalty cards, other peoples business cards, receipts I need to get money back from, Tesco vouchers, tissues, and some other stuff I would rather forget about.  I think we managed to come to some sort of knowing what we were all doing.  And I am seriously considering getting one of those baskets on wheels.

Then it was on to the Lighthouse Museum.

Rarely have I seen the sea away from the rocks, proving there is a reason for having a lighthouse to warn ships to keep away.  

The Dawn Patroller and I had our coffee and watched the Gannets diving into the sea.  The Oyster Catchers hopping along the edge.  

Home again, and down the shed.

The above is my depiction of the lighthouse when they lit the light and there was a beacon to celebrate the Queens Jubilee, June 4.  I struggled with that b***** beacon and still it looked like a mouldy piece of rock.  Or worse.

 So I chopped it off.
I can always admit defeat.

Right, now you are totally bored with this post I give to you the real heroines of the North East.  The Herring Quines, the women who followed the herrings and in this day earned 10d (thats not 10p its less than an old shilling, so less than 10p,) a barrel for gutting the herrings.  I did this pen and ink/watercolour in one colour, burnt umber and dark sienna pen.

And they did not wear tights.