I don't do beaches any more. I am past the age of surf, sand and sin. When I was young and athletic I did all three with....I nearly said "gay abandon" but one has to be careful these days how one uses certain words! So lets just say I did all three with great enthusiasm.
West Beach holds so many memories for me. It connects me with the past through many, many memories. West Beach has changed tremendously. We oldies all sigh with delicious sorrow at the passing of the good old days. Forgive the cliche, but it seems to fit in here.
Nearby and overlooking the dunes and the incredibly blue ocean is a stretch of deluxe high rise flats any one of which is available if you are able to throw around seven digit moula. From the balconies people can perve all day long. Which is known to occur.
West Beach is shaped like a slice of pale melon with a dark green outer skin. The pale melon is washed by the incoming waves of the ocean on which float the human detritus of hinterland on boogie boards and surf boards. Sail boards adventurously bob up and down at amazing speed when they are powered by powerful and playful offshore and onshore winds.
On the beach is a Peters mobile kiosk that attends to the thirsty needs of young and old who consume copious amounts of Coca Cola and never-ending supply of all kinds of ice-cream. Like flies youngsters clutter around as if that was the only reason they bothered to come down to West Beach.
But that' not why the endocrine lads and their sheilas come down with towels as large as bed-sheets. They need to be that large because the are required to hide their over-heated sexual games that are accompanied by either adolescent giggling or serious heavy breathing and moaning that reminds one of tomcats calling for a bout of feline romance.
There's always a certain amount of risk attached to serious sex play, apart from being loudly sworn at by some outraged granny doing her obligatory beach outing with a grandchild or two. The kids always turn to gran and want to know what they are doing, not that they really don't know. but it's such fun to watch granny turn red!
I vividly remember how once a stray dog managed to evade capture and came past such a couple heavily entangled and oblivious to all the world. I remember this so well. I just hoped it would happen. I crossed my fingers and drew the attention of my mates to what we all prayed so fervently hoped for. Well, our obscene prayers were answered by a playful God who also must have been waiting for it to happen. The pooch sniffed at the pile of sand and the towel then came right up to the lovers locked in passionate embrace and did a pee on them and then proceeded to kick sand to cover up its crime. The two screamed with annoyance - or was it anger - at their coitus interruptus. We hooted like lunatics and ran off to immerse ourselves in the water.
I dare say this culture still exists and vastly improved on, perhaps I saw no evidence of it that day, however.
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3 comments:
I, like Robert, have not enjoyed the pleasures of the sand and the surf for quite some time. The memories I have of the beach are captured exceptionally well in this piece, except perhaps the over-heated sexual games, of which I have no memory. I really do think that I should have spent more time at Robert’s beach of choice.
Adrian, I'm surprised that you didn't notice the sexual activity at your beach. Was your attention caught by the waves?
I would have missed all that sexual scene. All I would have been interested in was my longing to dive into the cool water.
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