This is the beach at Exmouth, photographed by Cathie Hartigan. We walked here with Margaret James before going to see the National Theatre live streamed production of 'King Lear'. Pathetic fallacy in action - though Exmouth just got a cold shower, not an apocalyptic thunderstorm, and no-one threw themselves off the cliff as far as I know.
The play was exhausting, compelling, and utterly bleak, apart from the brief reunion of Lear and Cordelia near the end. A little too much shouting in the first half, perhaps; the second part had more light and shade. This production seemed less about filial love (or lack of it), and more about the dilemmas of aging, the erosion of mental faculties and physical vitality, and how the younger generation copes with it. A story for our times