Efter en veckas innevistelse på grund av luftvägsinfektion kom jag idag ut i friska luften igen.
Det känns att det är människans rätta element, livskänslorna väcks ur sin slummer.

På väg ner till stranden mötte vi en ett år äldre Hannes.
Vi beklagade att renhållningsgubbarna funnit för gott att forsla undan hyddan. Å andra sidan har de utrustat stranden med robustare skräpsamlare.
Det var ebb. Min ”milsten” eller snarare km-sten som jag brukar stretcha mot ligger rejält uppe på land. Varje gång jag närmar mig den, särskilt när det är ebb som idag tänker jag på Dorothy Sayers Have His Carcase!
Have His Carcase (1932) begins with Harriet Vane on a walking tour. Her trial for murder behind her, freed from the dingy cell she endured during her detainment, and Lord Peter Wimsey’s advances having been deflected successfully (at least for the time being), Harriet needs a breath of fresh air and a change of scenery. She tramps along the countryside, contemplating the plot for her next murder mystery book. As she traipses along a beach near the sea, she discovers the dead body of a male. The tide is coming in, and Harriet fears that the body may well be washed out to sea — she has no time to summon help, nor does she have the strength to move the corpse. So she takes several items for evidence and she snaps photographs.
The authorities are a long way off in another town, and Harriet must walk the distance. Naturally, the body has been washed out to sea by the time Harriet is able to report the death.

The phrase ”Have His Carcase,” a translation from the Latin habeas corpus, refers to the body of evidence. In this case, the body of evidence is a human body. If there is no body of evidence, there is nothing to build a case upon — no proof that a body was washed out to sea. (Perhaps, after all, he awoke and left on his own.)