Now here’s the thing. I live on an island and am therefore surrounded by water. How many times do you think I’ve been to the beach (not counting dog walking or just with friends walking) ? Two. Two? I hear you gasp and you with the sea right there on your doorstep. But you don’t, do you? It’s like living in London and never going to any of the attractions – you live there therefore you don’t. Anyway, because of the weather being so fabulous TG and I took ourselves off to the beach on Saturday. He was indulging me really because he has the boredom threshold of a gnat and doesn’t do sunbathing on doctor’s orders but because I had a yearning to go (and because if we’d stayed at home it would have been enforced gardening) we went.
The west side of the island is far more rugged and wild than the more touristy east side and so that’s where we headed. Compton Bay is beautiful and the sea was a flat as a mill pond. We lounged, read, chatted and watched the world go by and went home at 3. I felt as though I’d been on holiday for the day, the sun was bright and hot and I ended up with silly panda eyes from not taking my sunglasses off. We lit the barbeque in the evening and cranked up Glastonbury on the radio with a large jug of Pimms to hand. It was a perfect day. Just perfect.