No sands are more beautiful than those between Bamburgh and Seahouses on the Northumbrian coast.
Other beaches may be whiter, richer in colour or more often sunlit, but for sheer subtle beauty Bamburgh sands must be hard to beat.
When being flown over them on 5th April, 1918, they looked so lovely that I vowed, once I was out of uniform, to spend a summer painting them.
So it followed that in the late spring of 1919 they became the theatre of my pictorial operations (if such grandiloquece may be forgiven).
Scarcely a soul haunted the dunes in those daysand in their gleaming hollows I could work direct from models.