My workplace is a ten-minute leisurely saunter from the beach. In the thirteen years I have been working there, I have never once contemplated forfeiting the inedible, but free, lunch offered by my employers, for a stroll there, toes in the warm sand, wind in my hair, blah blah.
Well, yesterday I did it. I confess I didn’t actually give up my lunch. I went afterwards. (Sssssh, don’t tell on me). I reckoned it wouldn’t be too hot because it was cloudy and rain was expected.
There is something magical about the beach. Even though this strip of beach is right near a busy main road, descending towards the beach a lull fell. All was quiet. You couldn’t hear the traffic, just the wind and the sea. There weren’t a lot of people: A few stay-at-home moms with babies. Lucky them. Imagine coming to the beach with kids on weekdays when it’s empty, instead of going to work. They all seemed to know each other so this must be a regular thing; a few youngsters, maybe students, or people who worked at night; some pensioners. The pensioners were the only ones who ventured into the water, for some reason.
There were a lot of pigeons. Every so often they all flew up in the air together, like pigeons do, and I felt I was being swept up with them. I sat on the sand, wondering if I’d be able to brush it off later, so no one would see, when I went back to work. It gradually became very overcast and windy.
I sat there for nearly an hour. I just couldn’t tear myself away. Watching the water, the pigeons, and the approaching clouds. Feeling the wind on my face and body, making my hair a tangled mess (OK, Mum, a more tangled mess than usual).
When I finally left, the quiet seemed to come with me. Maybe it was the wind that gave that feeling, or the quiet before the rain. It did rain in the end, but not very much.
When I got back to work, no one had even noticed I had been gone. Things get a bit sleepy just after lunch.
Next time I’ll take something to put on the sand, to sit or lie down on. That is, if the next time isn’t in another thirteen years time.