Beach Time

I knew we had to be at Vacswim at 10.30.

“What time is it?” I was thinking about having another coffee.

“About ten past ten I think?”

And that’s when the pace changed.

I barked instructions that were all punctuated with a clapping of hands and an anxious “Quickly!” We kissed friends returning to Sydney goodbye while delving into the back of the couch for earplugs, and shaking the sand out of beach towels. There was a frantic search for a swimming cap that was triumphantly fished from the inside of the washing machine.

“I haven’t had breakfast?!” The first little traveller (the tween) hadn’t quite opened both eyes as yet.

Within two minutes she was sitting in the car with a dazed look on her face and a ham sandwich in her lap.

The holiday calender now had its one and only appointment. And after two weeks of beach mode, a world of 10am beers, sunscreen for makeup and bathers for underwear; a solitary fixed date with a time had arrived similarly to the news of a pub with no beer.

As we raced along the esplanade G glanced down at the clock on the dashboard.

It was only 10 o’clock.

We’re still not sure if the Sydney friend was on Sydney time, but he’d done us a huge favour, we were now early.

We stopped for a coffee, and slowly drove towards the surf club admiring the beach hard core; the swimmers, runners and tent spot savers.

We patted ourselves on the back for our spectacular rockstar carpark in the front row, and claimed the empty picnic bench with a stunning view of the coast.

And then we waited.

And waited.

Until we realized.

We were a day early.

I’m a little bit frightened about returning to the real world.

Because I’m technically challenged (I really struggle with video on this blog) the sound begins at the 9 second mark and ends abruptly soon after, but I thought I’d share the drive home xx

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