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Brown Ochre
Dec. 29th, 2011 10:08 pmThere is a moment each year I love, a few days after Christmas, when I open the fridge and see the remains of the pavlova. Because when you leave it long enough, after a while the sweet white goo in the middle of meringue shell starts weeping a caramel-coloured sap and what's left of the shell is deliciously chewy. I think I like that better than eating the pavlova on Christmas Day even.
The carton of sour cream I opened this evening invited me to put a 'dollop of happy' in my food, which sounds vaguely unsavoury.
I have been making use of my holiday by getting up early and going for a walk on the beach each morning. Before breakfast is a good time to be at the beach. I only have to share it with a few other walkers, some surfers and the council worker driving the machine that moves the kelp and other ocean detritus out of the way. Oh, and some racehorses, but they keep to one small area near the breakwater. Lots of walkers and joggers on the path that runs along the beach, which puzzles me. Why stick to the path when you can have the beach to yourself, more or less?
On the way to the beach, I have to pass the annual seaside carnival, which is locked up at that time of day. Closest to the fence are the dodgem cars, all tucked up. On the way back, I also have to pass the tennis courts, and slow down to allow vast hordes of young players cross the road with their enormous bags, on their way to the annual tournament.
I don't go to the tennis courts, though. I have to get home before the sun gets me. It takes work to maintain a complexion this pasty.
I am thinking about keeping this morning beach walk up once I go back to work. How long do we think that will last?
The carton of sour cream I opened this evening invited me to put a 'dollop of happy' in my food, which sounds vaguely unsavoury.
I have been making use of my holiday by getting up early and going for a walk on the beach each morning. Before breakfast is a good time to be at the beach. I only have to share it with a few other walkers, some surfers and the council worker driving the machine that moves the kelp and other ocean detritus out of the way. Oh, and some racehorses, but they keep to one small area near the breakwater. Lots of walkers and joggers on the path that runs along the beach, which puzzles me. Why stick to the path when you can have the beach to yourself, more or less?
On the way to the beach, I have to pass the annual seaside carnival, which is locked up at that time of day. Closest to the fence are the dodgem cars, all tucked up. On the way back, I also have to pass the tennis courts, and slow down to allow vast hordes of young players cross the road with their enormous bags, on their way to the annual tournament.
I don't go to the tennis courts, though. I have to get home before the sun gets me. It takes work to maintain a complexion this pasty.
I am thinking about keeping this morning beach walk up once I go back to work. How long do we think that will last?