Like an artist with a paint brush
'cross a canvas,
Paddle boarders stand proud
like cathedral spires across a city-scape.
Children splash.
Groups head across the beach staking claims on sections,
set up camp they build kingdoms with invisible walls.
Each family grouping keeps to themselves,
marking out their territory,
they unpack.
BBQ's, chairs, fishing rods and beach tents.
From coolboxes they produce banquets and set a match to the BBQ.
Rummaging in the coolbox for
Sausages; Burgers; Chicken,
the bag of brown finger rolls won't open.
Man cooks.
Like the rain on a stormy day when you couldn't find your overcoat,
the smell of freshly cooked food soaks into every last pour of you.
Chairs circled round the developing feasts,
hungry people expectantly waiting for food,
plates clasped in hand.
they eat!
When did a trip to the sea become so involved?
When did we decide we must take everything with us?
And what's wrong with a sandwich?
Perhaps I'm getting old!
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