Perhaps it will be an annual pilgrimage. It felt that way today as we headed down the M1 to meet good friends, Robyn and Paul, holidaying at Kirra Beach. We walked down to the waters edge, white, pristine, fine as dust sand on our feet, warming but not burning and we dived headlong into the sea. Beautiful colours of green and turquoise by the shore and then that deep blue of the Ocean engulfing the rest. We walked on the nearly empty beach, a few families, some with children, babies and elderly couples, enjoying the sun sea fun.
A cycad bursting with its fruits
I swam out deep until Robyn beckoned that I was going too far. This is not the Med, but the joy of being in the sea was wonderful and I dipped and dived into the breaking waves as if I was fifteen. Back out and a lunch of fresh prawns and crusty bread, heavenly. I felt that warm after glow of the sun on my body and the ravenous appetite that the sea always gives me, reminding me of my childhood and my life by the sea. I found a shell with a hole and gave it to Grace, Robyn's granddaughter for the most natural of necklaces.
A sense of invigoration and freedom in this anxious, parlous world of ours.
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