Beach Life

Ah, the summer.

Spent yesterday lying on a beach, looking through the gaps in my straw hat carefully positioned over my face (I know what you're saying, and its not funny) at the cotton wool clouds drifting past. My favourite skies are the ones that look like the title frame for 'The Simpsons', and this one didn't disappoint. I could hear my breathing echoing around the inside of my hat, as well as the lazy inhalation and exhalation of the sea rolling over the pebbles. Someone had a baggy panel in their windbreak that rattled in the occasional breeze. Every so often there would be the scrunching of footsteps in the stones - 'Keep going, keep going, don't sit near me'. In the distance excited children's voices called to each other, and once or twice an admonishing adult's tone.

When the level of relaxation became too strenuous, a cup of tea would be sought from the kiosk nearby. A good cup of tea, that excused it's nasty little expanded polystyrene container. I was even quite glad of the plastic lid as it did arrive pleasantly hot.

There is a knack to getting comfy on a stony beach, it never works at the first attempt, and once you acknowledge this, things become easier. There is the little ceremony of trying to tack the rug down in the breeze, making sure you go for the stones that look too big first off (saves effort in the end). When you lie down you will undoubtedly find that one or two stones are a bit pointy, and catch you in that tender area around your kidneys. Remember that they have been around for several million years so have earned their place on the beach as well. A small amount of shuffling, or even a kneel up and pat movement should sort this out. You can then enjoy several hours of worrying only about whether to have a Magnum or a Ninety Nine. Actually, you HAVE to have the Ninety Nine if you are a serious beach person. Magnums (Magna/Magnii?) just don't dribble down your forearm in the traditional manner, rather like modern candles don't dribble wax down the Liebfraumilch bottle any more (and not just because no-one buys cheap white these days).

The best finale to a beach day is the take away curry. This means you don't have to retain a vertical position for too long while slaving over a hot stove. You can phone from the sitting position and just move sideways onto a comfy couch when the doorbell rings with the chicken tickler masala. ALWAYS remember that however careful you are, the oil from the curry containers will trickle out onto the nearest surface. Forego any Feng Shui concerns and just keep a bin liner propped open at the ready.

Wash down with copious amounts of red and when your eyelids get heavy, fall into bed.

Job done.