After gingerly swinging in the jellyfish, I walked up the beach to show it to Hawkeye.
"It's a jellyfish," he says.
After a quick picture, I drop the boy-o-war (as young Portugese man-of-war are known) back in the water.
Sea-mist has almost completely enveloped the shingle, leaving us fishing in a surreal half-light.
Sandwich terns occasionally hover within casting range and dive for sandeels. I've seen the occasional distant swirl I'm hoping might be a bass.
When the culprit comes closer and pops his head up, it's a big grey seal.
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