This is my home patch. I grew up just a few minutes walk away from these sands. In fact, in certain breezy times, rather a lot of this sand would be blowing up the road and sneaking in through letter boxes. A stray grain would always find it's way in between your teeth, even though the mini sandstorms made you hold your breath and turn away.
My adopted home town of Brighton has a beach covered in millions of stones. Most days, the low tide doesn't reveal any sand at all here.
I spend hours on both of these beaches, and while they both generate lots of ideas for my creative work, there is no prize for guessing which one I prefer to walk or sit upon.
Having sat for too long on Brighton beach this afternoon, I have just been rotating the header photo, imagining I was in another place instead, flying across these sands for the joy of it.