not drowning but waving...

Hove beach again yesterday, this time with James. Overcast, windy, high waves breaking before they reached the shore, coming in slant-wise along the beach. If you swam parallel to the land, the huge waves would slap you forcefully over the head, and those breakers that reached the shallows had enough power to knock yuo over and suck you back a little way if you timed it wrong. It reminded me of being much too young for the ten-foot waves at Beeritz - frightened and enthralled.

Getting changed on a beach inhabited by other members of the general public is always funny. More so when the wind is high...

Jordan.

xXx

Down by the ocean, it was so dismal...

Miss Smith, it seems, was not on Hove beach this morning. Yes, the sky was grey. Yes, the wind was up. Yes, the rennovated modernist architecture above the Peace Statue was austere. The sea, however, was a joy. The waves were playful. The tide was high, and I think out-going; it was harder to swim in than out - unless you rode a wave... We ran into the water as soon as we changed. "Dip" was very much the appropriate verb; unaccustomed muscles buffeted and braced by that incredible and incomprehensible power. A power that is timeless. Ocean is older than land, and it doesn't age, and it's never the same twice. You have to be right in one single moment when you swim in the sea - it's like being given a carte blanche; you regain the right to Play.

Recovered with various elaborate (and allegedly vegan) cakes in the Sanctuary.

It's good to be home.

J.

xXx