Bannister

I have, so, a camera, several cameras, but that does not make me a photographer. Dau.II otoh has a bit of an eye. She was down to the Déise in June, being handy. We seized the moment between chores to clamber over a headland that is only accessible for an hour each side of low tide. You can tel it's low tide because the tide mark is halfway up the rocks:

Credits: Dau.II for the crisp picture; me for the tacky sentiment.

 We've been beach-combing together for at least 20 years, but we aren't in competition. She is more for 

may came home with a smooth round stone 

as small as a world and as large as alone.

while I lean towards the discarded work of human hand. 

I swear I offered free choice of beach from Benvoy to BallyDwan. But we found ourselves on a stretch of coast which I'd visited about 10 days [20 tides] previous and given up on 7m of bright orange hawser with an eye-splice at each end. I had come with a collection of sharp objects to separate the useful from the tangle. The  hawser had, after 10 sleeps, become even more useful than it had seemed on first presentation. So I worked and worried until I had reduced the load to what a 70-something can carry away [L sic transit] over some modest cliffs.

I think it will do for a fixed-rope adjacent to the stairs between our house and the garden above and behind it. Me, I trip lightly up and down this familiar route even in the dark, even with armfuls of laundry, but I have noticed that [much younger and seemingly fitter] visitors approach the task with trepidation. Sooo, the local bainisteoir = gaffer [L] intends to install a bannister for safety.