You can smell the ozone as we take the winding path down to the beach. I was going to bring a lure rod, tackled up with one of those tiny krill things you can cast miles, but I've decided to take a camera instead to capture the storm clouds massing over Mussel Bay.
The sea's almost flat calm, as we walk along the foreshore, clouds shrouding the last of the sun. A few pictures, then the thunder echoes off the cliffs as the first drops of rain fall. Time to make a run, Hun, I tell the wife.
As we turn for home, I see terns diving for whitebait a few yards off the shoreline, accompanied by the odd swirl. Bass...! Should have brought the lure rod after all, with that krill thing you can cast miles. By the time we get back to ours, 10 minutes later, it's raining so hard our road's turned into a river.
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