It wasn't as dramatic as I had hoped around the cliffs. The wind wasn't blowing onshore, nor, thankfully, offshore; it was more along shore. This meant that some stretches of the path were comparatively calm. We did have one really hairy moment though.
We were on the highest bend and, as we rounded the corner, the wind literally blew me off my feet - thankfully into the rock face rather than off the cliffs.
Things weren't helped by George. He didn't like being battered and, naturally, blamed me so leapt up at me and then tried to clamber up the rock face.
For a few minutes (okay, about 20 seconds) we shivered and squeaked. My whole life flashed before me and I only had one regret: that I hadn't tasted the marmalade cake I'd made this morning.
That was incentive enough. 'For goodness sake, woman, get a grip!' I spoke sternly to myself. Then I grabbed George's collar and my woolly hat that had been blown off, and we edged our way forward slowly along the rocky path.
but there are two good things about walking the cliffs when it's wild and windy:
1) you don't see anybody else;
2) it's wonderful when you stop.