Marbles made of Hangovers

Unstable weather. Blustery rain while walking to work this morning, then a day of uneasy calm, punctuated by intermissions of cold but pleasing sun. Then, tonight, the rain again. Standing at the bus stop soaked. Drizzle-heavy rain drops, like marbles made of hangovers.
The sea is forgotten now. Not really, as I look at it every day through the call centre window, but it is an unreal sea, a film of tides, a snapshot of currents. I mean I do not walk by the sea, do not sit on the pebbles, do not drink instant coffee bought from stalls by the pier. I do not walk down the promenade or stand at the waters edge, looking out at the horizon dreaming off Europe.
These things are impossible in winter.