'B' IS FOR BEACHES

CAPE VIDAL

There is a photograph of me at 21 months on the beach at Margate. I am clad in a

boys'  swimming costume - a mini Speedo. I do not know if the expression on face

is because I was wearing the incorrect gender apparel or because the water lapping 

around my chubby ankles was cold. I have such a miserable countenance. Someone

thought it adorable enough to snap me in forever unfaded black + white.

I  did not really like the beach - hot, sandy, sticky, icky.

One year, when I was nine & my brother was six, our Granny took us on a long

seaside holiday. On the beach, a bulldog decided it loved me to bits & licked &

slobbered all over my face. 'Yuech' as Lucy in the #PEANUTS comic strip would say.

Then I broke out into huge itchy hives. Oh the beach..........

Things improved when I stayed once for three weeks in Cape Town. I turned a 

mahogany brown, ate 'ice-lollies', 'cracked' some dates + was generally unaware 

of the beauty of Nature around me. 

GOURITZ MOND

Then l started solitary road trips around 

South Africa - we are spoiled for choice.

So l discovered the shoreline. l enjoy 

walking on firm, clean sand; water 

washing over my sun tanned feet. l

walk with purpose, carrying a little 

crocheted bag to collect shimmering

shells, polished pebbles, dessicated 

driftwood. Each piece a momento, a 

remembrance of each beach 

perambulated.

BOGGOMS BAY - DUSK