I went for a two hour walk along the beach from Aberdovey towards Tywyn
yesterday, an absolutely fabulous day for it. August is always busy
hereabouts, especially in the blazing sunshine, and the place was simply
heaving with summer bodies. As well as snapping a load of photos I
enjoyed four very charming little human vignettes that played out as I
was passing, and seemed to capture much of the spirit of a British
seaside holiday on a hot summer's day. I thought I would share.
Vignette 1.
A girl of about 10 and her younger brother paddling a few feet away
from me as I passed, also paddling. Girl, sounding upset: "There's
another one over here and this one's dead too." A jelly fish, of
course. The boy let out a yell of excitement and charged through the
sea towards her, water splashing everywhere: "Where, where, let me
see!" The girl pointed sadly, her face full of distress. They stood
and looked down at the fallen warrior. Whilst the girl was clearly
wondering if there was a heaven for jellyfish, and really hoping that
there was, her brother was clearing thinking very poorly of a beach that
couldn't produce a dissection kit on demand! I'm not one for
perpetrating stereotypes but this one was such a classic of its kind.
Vignette 2.
A couple in their 20s, playing some sort of beach bat-and-ball tennis,
whilst their large brown dog gamboled around them. Suddenly, the dog
stopped, raised his nose to the air and raced off, making a bee-line for
an indistinct lump in the ground. The girl saw him first and shouted
frantically: "No, Sherlock. NO!" The pair of them dropped their bats
and ran, the man yelling desperately "HERE Sherlock!" but they were too
late. With an expression that was part defiance, part entreaty and part
helpless apology, Sherlock launched himself on top of the heap in a
gloriously self indulgent roll. Sherlock was in bliss. All dog owners
will know that feeling of dread combined with inevitability as you
approach the impending stink. I am guessing dead jellyfish or crab,
nicely heated to the point of no return in the blazing sun. Last seen,
the disgraced Sherlock was being frog-marched to the sea for a bath,
looking terribly pleased with himself.
Vignette 3.
A father
stood up off his beach towel, shook off the worst of the sand and said
to a group of four children, three of whom were building a very
impressive sand castle complex "Who's coming with me for a swim?" They
all stood up, including one who was sitting a little apart, and gathered
around him yelling with excitement. The father looked down at the lad
who had been sitting apart and said "Not you Lucas. Not until you've
said sorry to Grandma." Lucas immediately burst into noisy and
self-pitying tears. A swift glance revealed that Grandma was crouching
in her sun-tent, like a particularly malevolent crab, glowering
ominously at the guilty party. As the swimming party headed to the sea,
the two were left confronting each other. I would have *loved* to have known
what Lucas had done to offend!
Vignette 4.
Finally, as I
was leaving the beach, passing in front of the sand dunes, a mother and
her teenage son were setting up their little camp, consisting of
sun-break, mini tent, towels, sun-cream and sand-dusted picnic. Mum:
"Isn't it a great day Ray?" My heart went out to Ray. Ray, about 14
years old, was as thin as a rake, his skin a pallid grey-white colour,
with the physique of a starving whippet. His face was invisible beneath
an enormous floppy fabric hat, and he was huddled in the sweltering
shade of the sun-tent (a concept I've never been able to wrap my head
around). Ray turned his head towards his mother and I though that his
non-committal "hmmmmm" in reply to her question was, under the
circumstances, truly heroic. You've never seen a boy look so
desperately unhappy and out of place!
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