[Miscellany]

The first thing you see is blue on blue. A cloudless sky resting atop a line of deep indigo on the horizon. The sun is already burning a red line across your bare skin; where you couldn't quite reach to put the sunscreen properly. A thin film of sweat collects at the nape of your neck. You breathe in the waves and swat at the flies before making your way down the hill to the sand. Do you want an ice-cream now or later? your companion muses while looking hungrily at the van. Can't we do both? you laugh back.

The bathing boxes are lined up like soldiers at the ready for a gay mardi gras parade. You can hear the delighted squeals of small children no doubt wearing hats that are much too big and being taunted by splashes of water. This makes you smile as you remember countless summers spent by the water. Your mind goes back in time almost 20 years to your dad dripping freezing cold water onto your back while you sunbaked, purposely trying to annoy you. These memories make you smile now. They didn't back then.

You hoist the umbrella up under your arm with effort (everything takes effort on a day already hitting 30 degrees before 10am) and take those first tentative steps across the hot sand. A scratchy towel, under the other arm is already throwing you off balance and you falter a little, tipping dangerously to one side. Walking on sand involves feeling like one is temporarily drunk. Finding the right spot is an art. Private but close to the water, sandy but not shelly, away from the freaks playing with a ball (who ARE these people that do this?) and enough room to have a conversation without being overheard.

With the umbrella erected and tilted, the picnic rug spread and the towels positioned just right you peel back your clothes and sigh backwards onto your towel. "A" pulls back the lid on a container to reveal a bunch of crispy green grapes, nectarines, watermelon and ripe strawberries. You take a strawberry and enjoy its sweet coolness across your lips. A perfect beach breakfast. You smile, engaging in a cheerful conversation that soon dies away as the sun sends you both into drowsy silence.

You close your eyes and hear the sounds of the beach all around you. Cheery laughter, sunscreen bottles clicking closed, a shuffling of feet close by, occasional outbursts of loud laughter and the heavy splashes of people frolicking in the waves. You open one eye and peer at the middle aged Greek ladies proudly displaying their slight ponches and legs complete with a touch of cellulite. They laugh and recount stories in their own language while sunning themselves. You notice they're set up for the whole day. Food, and drinks, books and sunscreen - everything a close knit group of friends will need. You know they won't hit the books, they've got too much to talk about. You grin to yourself. You much prefer these real creatures of life and laughter to the gaggle of silent but deadly young things further down who look like they've had one too many days in the sun and are much too conscious of looking the part of the beach-goer. Give it a rest girls, this ain't LA you think.

The best part of the afternoon ticks by as you doze, and talk and imagine and sigh. The water feels like a silky awakening and you are christened by a new feeling of contentment. Hallelujah! And under you go again.

By the time you both pack away the makeshift picnic the beach dwellers have tripled. The sand is a patchwork of gaudy tends and Pisa tilted umbrellas. Making your way back to the car is always a challenge with your head weighted with daydreams as it is today. You smell a little bit like cocoa butter and sunscreen, ice-cream and sand all mixed together with a pinch of salt. It's a nice smell. You smell like summer.

Labels: breakfast, endless summer lift the curse, friends, holiday, lazy holiday, peaceful, real women

posted by M at 8:58 pm 17 comments

A covert operation planned between friends
Winking to each other in the school hallways for weeks now.
To take a day or three and just escape.
Up north, where we're told the sun still shines.
To a Tiny Town (to borrow a phrase)
Rush to the airport - park illegally
Crunching sound of a side view mirror against a pole - ouch.
Panic, maybe we won't make it on time
RUN to the check in (laughing)
Breathe out; Tickets confirmed!
Time to park properly.
RUN back to the gate - paged - oops we're late again.
Relax and put feet up - leaving behind the stress, tears and work.
Nervous excitement - we finally did it!
The elated reconciliation of old friends meeting again.
Drinks and food (and drinks..did I mention that?)
Promises that it won't be a weekend of 'running around'.
Meeting RO's husband, everything she said he was: Bloke with a capital B and twinkly eyes to boot!
Taking walks down empty beaches littered with occasional pebbles
Smoothed over by the constant crashing of water.
Conversation warmed by the sun.
Watching the surfers zip up their wet suits and chase the waves - envying their relaxed athleticism.
Amusement by the surf war pavement scribbles: "QLDers go home".
Daydreams framed by crashing waves and contented sighs
Sleepy eyed late night talks while listening to the surf.
Sipping at a red ...white ...red ...oh I forget
Music; louder than it could be
Jokes; naughtier than they should be
Dancing; dangerously daggy.
Company; progressively 'spaced'
Groggy start to each morning - peering at the view over a hot morning coffee
Lazy lunches in surf villages - this is how it should always be.
Four wheel driving along the shore
...On second thought perhaps I should have skipped that lunch.
Spotting dolphins in the distance
Hikes to the lighthouse
Picking the house we'd buy if we won lotto
Taking photos we really won't ever show anyone
Collapsing into the pillow at the end of it all
Only to wake up and wish I could do it over again.

Perfect soundtrack by a near perfect band: Do It Again - The Beach Boys

Do it again - The Beach Boys [click]

And one more, because I just love this one so much:

In my Room - The Beach Boys

Labels: beach, friends, lazy holiday, musical monday

posted by M at 7:04 pm 26 comments