Sand in our Hair

We laughed, oh how we laughed! We laughed into the gale and our laughs were carried way on the wind along with our dry robes and anything else not weighted down in the sand.
We looked at each other as we tried to stand upright, we felt the wind blown sand exfoliating our faces, we contemplated the logistics of getting dressed damp in the teeth of the gale and still we went for it.

The sea was not rough in a SW wind but the spume was a reminder of the latter’s strength. Other people saw us in the water, came in too and also laughed in the face of the elements.

We did manage to get dressed before our clothes were blown away and were then propelled along to the Beach House for hot drinks and croissants. What a magical start to this Armistice Day for us; the kind of day that so so many of the fallen in the endless wars that have beset our world never have had the chance to enjoy.
We will remember them.

It might take me the rest of the day to get rid of all the sand in my belongings.