Today I was on the same beach I frolicked on almost 30 years ago.
Those heady, carefree days I spent topless, chasing a frisbee, unaware that my pert little orbs were flying free.
My svelte, flawless, bronzed body, glided across the ochre coloured sands and dived effortlessly into the Atlantic rollers. Occasionally, I would lie down and luxuriate on my beach towel spread across the hot sand, which felt as soft as a duck down mattress. Those were the days.
Today, I’m perched on an upright deckchair, with a sinking feeling… the soft sand is capsizing under my weight. The alternative, lying down splayed out on my towel, is not a happy alternative as it causes more than just a degree of discomfort, especially when getting up… and, the sand gets in every orifice, rubbing and crunching against my skin.
The refreshing briny spray from the Atlantic Ocean rollers thundering down on the beach refreshes my blotchy, red skin, but I’m reluctant to hurl myself into the surf for fear of being knocked over.
But I love it… not the getting older part, but the warmth of the sun and the invigorating sea-spray frolicking on my skin.