They are hoping to see a quintessential beach hut. Unembarrassed curiosity disappointed when all they see are two chairs occupied by Mr H and me, our rucksack, knitting, books and shoes abandoned on the floor. It was grey on Tuesday but we still went for a swim a mature lady giggles as she and her companion walk, engrossed in their friendly chitter chatter, oblivious to my pen scratching across the page of my notebook.Īlmost everyone peers inside as they pass. fades with the phone owners footsteps crunching on the pebbled beach in front of us.
Hello you are through to British Gas if you have a boiler breakdown press 1. They stop, turn their heads and smile a thank you. Maybe an avocado bagel from the kiosk I think. I mull over how long I should leave it before I mention my hunger to Mr H, knowing he will offer to fetch me something as I laze in my deckchair, smelling of sun cream covered skin. It must be a real pain just sitting there taking in the sunshine, as he passes while waving his arms around to take in the sunny blue sky, sea beyond and screeching seagulls.
On a week away this summer a rotund man says
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