Thursday the last full day of holiday. I get up and have coffee while my partner sleeps. We make a slow start to the day with a simple breakfast of toast and grapefruit. The forecast says its going to get unbearably hot so we decide to sit on the beach after lunch. In the meantime I and my partner go to post the last remaining cards and get food for the evening. The post box has been knitting bombed.
We collect pasties from the bakery and then buy a paper. Back at the apartment we settle down to a mid morning read and a coffee. Thus we wend our way to lunchtime and more coffee and savoury rolls. A brief rest and then its off to the beach to use our new folding chairs and to read at the edge of the sea. Very romantic, very holiday. Of course there is a challenge; how quickly can I get the chair together from its packaged state to body supporting function. Action video below, note the cracking new ice hockey jersey.
You would be forgiven for thinking that this is a resounding success and for a while it was. I erected the second chair and settled down to read some Proust on the Kindle. Being a fat bastard and the chair being, well less than Chippendale, I and the chair sank into the sand. I moved and once again slide sideways into the beach. I gather rocks to reinforce the foundations of my chair. I ease my rump into the chair and for a moment all feels well and then without any sense of responsibility it tipped me arse over head onto the beach giving out an ominous crack as it went. It had broken. I stuffed the broken skeleton into its bag and found myself a niche in the pebble ridge where I returned to reading. I did not last long before being aware of how nippy the sea breeze was. Enough was enough, we decamped and returned to the apartment disappointed and disgruntled. We change clothes and go for a walk to the “haunted House” and then indulge in an ice cream.
We end up looking over Westwood Ho! from the cliffs and watching the ocean roll in to a high tide. During this time I get a message from a friend suggesting that due to the predicted heat wave at the weekend we postpone our lunch date. We discuss this adn decide that it is a good idea and so I message back that we agree and are happy to met the following Sunday.
A wander back to the ice cream van and a sit down over looking the green to savour it. A final trip to the shop to buy beans for tea and then back to the apartment. My partner sits on the patio while I arrange a Tesco delivery for Monday. A stranger stops to talk to my partner over the patio wall and asks if she and her husband can see our apartment. They own one of the apartments in the complex and are thinking about changing the layout to one that is similar to the one we are in. They come in and have a look around and we chat a bit. They own several letting properties and are considering what to do with their latest acquisition. They seem relatively okay and clearly comfortable with life. They leave and I continue with the Tesco order. Then sadly we start to pack for our departure in the morning.
Tea is a simple affair with the football on in the background and then out of the blue a brass band starts to play. There on the green a brass band has turned up and is giving an impromptu performance. An unexpected event which is very English seaside.
The evening progresses and I start to draft the blog as France set about Belgium in the football. I’ve written nothing this holiday apart from postcards and the blog, that’s unusual but I note the Poetry Society annual competition is open till October so I might have a stabbed at it for the chance of the £5000 prize. I think however my entries will lend up joining my Herod’s Children collection which are all my competition failures.
