On to the beach we go!

Friday night, we went to the beach ("we" is a bunch of people from church, ed.). Though the sun might not have been shining and the wind was a-blowing, it was a lovely evening. I myself am quite used to going to the beach in winter and autumn, taking long walks along the waterside, the salt embalmed on your lips when you head back to the car. After some dune-rolling (ever so slightly, only one meter or so and I already got a pounding headache from it!), Katie, Greg, Luke and I decided to test the waters. Jeans rolled up to my knees, I paddled a little, but after seeing both Greg and Katie swimming to their hearts' content, I could no longer restrain myself and I strode into the high seas, the water splashing my jeans as the sand embraced my toes. Feeling free and alive and with the water only an inch away from my buttocks, I headed back to the beach, where the realisation hit me: I now had on salty, sandy, wet jeans, which were stinging my skin (very sensitive skin, remember!) and I had brought no change of clothes. Onto the beach towel it was, trying not to provoke any of my church friends with the nakedness of my upper tighs whilst squirming myself out of the wet piece of clothing. With a towel wrapped around my waist and a warm hoodie sheltering me from the sea breeze, I happily stared out over the water and felt at home and at peace.

But the adventure wasn't over. We rounded the group up and drove into the woods, where by now the darkness covered all in a spooky gloom. The boys had the bright idea to play hide and seek. Luckily, we paired up. Coincidentally, I was always found first (why would that be, I wonder?) and enjoyed many a minute eating pringles and drinking a delightful fizzy peach drink whilst trying to discern shapes in the ever faster approaching darkness. It was a rather pleasant evening, not too warm nor too cold (I had put on my slightly dryer jeans before we headed into the woods), which ended in an interesting conversation about different cults and denominations. Cup of tea at Barrington (of course - I keep referring to Barrington Road when I say I am heading home - this is becoming rather awkward) and then a refreshing walk home, meeting butterfly bushes all along the way. And the sand in my shoes wasn't even that bad.