This is Golden Week, which means I get a lot of days off. I intend to sail like crazy and indeed do on Saturday. Then the wind gets up and the sea goes into peril zone.
So I go and look at things.
The tide is still like totally far out. The Scaffie is beached.
I go out to talk to her and promise that we will go for a gallop tomorrow. I spy Pacific Golden Plovers. It is Golden Week. It all makes sense.