It wasn’t raining when first we set out for our walk along the sea wall to Coryton Cove beach, the beach favoured by locals and end of the road as far as our sea wall at Dawlish is concerned; but the skies were clouded and grey, and it looked like rain was on its way. Nevertheless, we didn’t mind – Stuart and Mary (don’t they sound like a king and queen?) were down for the weekend and everyone wanted to go out, if only to stretch our legs. Mary and Stuart (sounds just as regal) made a beeline for the shops while Chris, Roland and I preferred to take in the sea air. Of course, the clouds opened up when we were half-way between the railway bridge and the shelter at Boat Cove and we had to run through the puddles as quickly as possible to avoid getting soaked; there is something very nostalgic about being in the rain and running through puddles, we were laughing as we stepped under the shelter.

Three ladies were sitting on one of the green benches; anticipating only a short shower, we chose not to sit and stood to the left of the ladies. Now I’m not one to be unfriendly when I have been running in the rain and laughing, and I’m standing a few yards away from three charming ladies, so, having determined that the ladies had Scottish accents I asked:

“Are you from Scotland?”

“Och aye (I may be exaggerating a tad),” answered the perky lady in powder blue, “We’re from Inverness but we love it here in Dawlish – we’re staying at Dawlish Warren for the week. And I’ll tell you another thing…we’re not voting for independence on the eighteenth of September! All the family know how to vote – I told them….”

We continued chatting about Inverness, Dawlish and importance of remaining united, and we may have carried on chatting even after the rain had stopped. At last we three walkers said our fare-thee-wells (and blew kisses) and we walked on to Coryton Cove, our intended destination (which still looked a bit grey and uninviting).

On our way back, just as we were passing by the shelter again, it started to pour down and we sought cover with the lovely ladies who were still there. By now we were old friends reuniting and our return was received with much merriment. We introduced ourselves properly this time – the two mature ladies are Jane (but they call her Jean) and Bunty (in the dark blue), and the younger lady, Bunty’s daughter-in-law, is called Linda. Our conversation turned to family, husbands and even burials (but in a nice way – Bunty might end up resting with both her late husbands).

“Not many people talk to us old ones,” said Jean.

I nodded. (I knew what she meant.)

“You’re very understanding,” Jean added.

And then the sun came out and the sea turned a beautiful aqua blue. If the ladies from Inverness happen to read this I’d like them to know that they made my day – our chance meeting seemed to me to be like sunshine on a rainy day.