So many people you just had to meet without your clothes

We’ve have the most incredible summer weather for the last couple of weeks. We’re talking ridiculously hot and sunny here. Everyone’s smiling and happy (when not complaining of sunburn). And to add to this spot of heated luck I had a four-day weekend! Four long hot sunny days with nothing to do. Pure Bliss. Being on the coast I felt a growing obligation to go the beach and experience the sun there instead of on my balcony. I reckoned with a book in hand I could happily laze about being all content and beachy.

As I cycled over the dunes it quickly became apparent that my idea was far from original. In fact thousands shared it- it was like the Tour de France just getting there. That’s the problem with living along side 16 million others in a country the size of a postage stamp.  The only way to get away from the beach masses is to go further up the beach away from civilisation. As you walk further away from the main drag there are fewer and fewer people. And indeed fewer and fewer clothes. Until you get to a point where they’ve just stopped bothering wearing anything at all. This makes walking more and more of a challenge as you try to not openly stare at the exhibits people splayed about and not act shocked or uncomfortable. I just pretended to be following the flight of a particularly fascinating bird until I could find a safe patch to lower my eyes.

Finally I found a nice little piece of beach where I wasn’t directly confronted by anything that dangled. I spread my towel on the ground, had a little stretch and lay down. Thirty seconds later boredom crept in and I started fidgeting so I got my book out. The wind kept blowing the pages so I put it away again. I fortunately remembered then to put on some sun block. All lotioned up I lay down again just as the wind blew, covering me in a light layer of sand. Trying to rub the sand off me I managed to trip up in my towel and ended up completely in the sand. As I am fairly generous with the sun block this meant I was totally covered in sticky sand and resembled some sort of ‘it crawled from the dunes …’ monster.  I raced to the sea with the idea of washing myself  - cautiously dipping one toe first to check before plunging. This was an exceptionally good decision as the sea was colder than a witch’s mojito.

Severely discouraged by this whole beach visit I tried one last time to relax on my towel. No easy feat when there is sand everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Applying more sun block was like having an excruciating exfoliation with sand paper. I decided that I had enough - I was sick of the sand and bored of just lying there - what was wrong with my balcony after all. It’s clean, sandless and just a couple of steps from a cool beer in the fridge! Just before packing up though my mind started wandering…it’s probably nicer to be sunbathing in the nip - fewer places for the sand to get caught up. And sure,  if everytone else is doing it then indeed why not me? In fact I’m standing out like a sore thumb here. I don’t want to be a fuddy duddy! Plus it’s probably a nice feeling to have the gentle breeze blowing over your sunkissed body…

And so my trip wasn’t a complete waste. The sand removed all my dead skin cells and I now have a wonderful all-over tan!