Thursday, January 11, 2007
Son of a Beach
If the wind hasn't picked up there is really nothing nicer than heading down the beach and trying hard not to drown in the surf. A prospect less likley if the wind isn't up. And so it was that Dad and I were down at Brighton Beach on Sunday having a bit of a boogie board. In my case that usually involved going out past the second break and lying half on it and just floating. Dad take a more conventional approach and catches waves to the shoreline.
It was at a moment just before he was about to catch another wave when a sound I'm not even sure I've ever heard, least not whilst I'm in the water, went off. Yes campers, the shark alarm. Now I'm a dutiful daughter and duly told my deaf parent who displayed what I am sure was just 'showing me the fastest way to the shore' techniques, that left me struggling slightly in the surf whilst keeping an eye out for dark shadows in the water. What quite I would have done is of course anyones guess.
A couple of hundred people stood looking out to sea, the airplane flew overhead (we presume it was them who raised the alarm) and then no more than ten mins later the all clear sounded and with what I considered a very respectable lack of regard for the Killer in the Ocean, 90% of people (our goodselves included) promptly went back in the water.
I have to admit, I probably didn't go quite so far out the second time.
Bondi Beach, where I've just returned from (via the shops of course - beautiful bag, top and dress & sarong in hand) was almost as treachrous: full of groups of teens (how fucking irriating are they?) crowds of tourists generally and did I mention groups of teens, squealling and screaming and running about clutching each other right over the top of my space. There was no blissful lying on the beach today sadly. But I am getting rather tanned for all my endeavours so there is some recompense.
[EDIT] Photo updated from blogger's own collection [/EDIT]
Bondi, without the teens and tourists, would be lovely.
It was at a moment just before he was about to catch another wave when a sound I'm not even sure I've ever heard, least not whilst I'm in the water, went off. Yes campers, the shark alarm. Now I'm a dutiful daughter and duly told my deaf parent who displayed what I am sure was just 'showing me the fastest way to the shore' techniques, that left me struggling slightly in the surf whilst keeping an eye out for dark shadows in the water. What quite I would have done is of course anyones guess.
A couple of hundred people stood looking out to sea, the airplane flew overhead (we presume it was them who raised the alarm) and then no more than ten mins later the all clear sounded and with what I considered a very respectable lack of regard for the Killer in the Ocean, 90% of people (our goodselves included) promptly went back in the water.
I have to admit, I probably didn't go quite so far out the second time.
Bondi Beach, where I've just returned from (via the shops of course - beautiful bag, top and dress & sarong in hand) was almost as treachrous: full of groups of teens (how fucking irriating are they?) crowds of tourists generally and did I mention groups of teens, squealling and screaming and running about clutching each other right over the top of my space. There was no blissful lying on the beach today sadly. But I am getting rather tanned for all my endeavours so there is some recompense.
[EDIT] Photo updated from blogger's own collection [/EDIT]
Bondi, without the teens and tourists, would be lovely.
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