Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Tuesday, 10 July 2018
Back to the sea
Yesterday's post got me thinking about childhood holidays, and childhood holidays always get me thinking of Rupert.
One of the things I like about Rupert is how his animal chums and parents mingle with us humans without anyone questioning how they can walk upright or wear human clothes. They go to cafes and mingle with us without any sidelong glances. That is a real skill.
I would like to be on a secluded beach in England now, staring into a rock-pool at low tide and getting lost in an underwater microcosm.
We spent quite a few wonderful days lying on a beautiful beach in Cuba once, and the nearest fellow tourist to us was a gigantic Russian man with a shaved head and no neck.
He was there every morning when we arrived and was still there as the sun went down when we left.
He spent his entire holiday on his hands and knees with his back to the sea, building crude sandcastles, knocking them down with sweeps of his massive arms, then rebuilding them - over and over again. I have not seen an adult so absorbed in their little own world before or since.