Christmas Day; Sunsets, Fish-heads and Mashed Swede

Christmas morning. Meet Andy on the landing of the flat while I make Em toast and honey for breakfast. He says that he is relieved to escape his dreams. I ask him what he dreamt about. 'Sunsets and loneliness' is his enigmatic reply. I dreamt to, of planks of wood just below the surface of a body of water. Some pathway made by a tribe. I am there with a friend I have fallen out with. A colleague from work asks if he knows how the plank-paths work. The friend races onto the planks and falls between them into the water. 'He does now' I say to my colleague. I attempt to use the planks. As I walk carefully along the planks I notice they are old. The unseen tribe has not used them in a long time. The plank snaps and I am plunged into the water and wake up.
After breakfast, Em and myself head down the beach to meet Sarah for a cup of tea at the Meeting House cafe on the seafront, open all year round. The promenade is as crowded as a summers day. Packs of delighted dogs play with balls and the sea and each other. Children fall off new skateboards or show their proficiency on equally new bikes.
We meet Sarah, and after waiting in the long queue for cups of tea retreat to the pebbles to sit down. An oddly mild day. Glimpses of muted sun from behind shifting cloud banks. As we sit on the pebbles there is the sound of something dropping on the stones behind me. Sarah gives a cry of amused disgust. With trepidation I turn around. Just behind me is a rotting fish head, dropped, one hopes, from a seagull.
I tell her about my recent experience of being attacked by a seagull walking down Western Road at lunchtime.
'The seagulls really don't like you' she says.
The wind gets colder and it starts to feel more like winter so we head on. Sarah leaves to feed cats she is looking after and Em and myself head back here to make Christmas dinner, where I discover I am quite good at mashing Swede.