One stolen day, I made tracks to the decidedly fancy Hamptons, not to wear white and laugh at the great unwashed, but instead to explore East Hampton as a friend was stationed there for a work-thing. (My beauty is in the details). It was just at the tail end of the summer, when there would be moments of fleeting warmth but wool and tights were essential before giving in to the tyranny of a Winter coat.
I arrived in East Hampton and the scene was perfect, the summer season had more or less trailed out the week before so the holiday town, for once, had the air of a normal town, aside from the bombastic Gucci and Tiffany shops that replaced the conventional newsagent and pub.
After a day of pottering, going into the marginally more accessible shops we headed to the beach. I had some left over champagne from the wedding and sharing a toast with the sea seemed like the perfect way to finish it.
We grabbed rugs and blankets from B's house and headed to the water. The beach was empty. I could see for hours and miles in either direction. We sat down, uncorked the ludicrous champagne and watched. It was overcast, however the sun was strong enough behind the cloud banks to illuminate everything, making the clouds glow at the edges. The colours were all muted, soft, as if they had been rained on. The sea was a slate grey colour. The sand itself was a creamy colour. Suddenly this was more than just a lovely day out: it was unbearably beautiful.
We were now huddled under blankets as the wind coming off the sea was brisk and watched the sun progress west.
We had time to take one quick photo, above and then I realised I was late for the bus back. After a scramble we got to the bus stop, only in time for me to decide that I needed a wee... and thus diving into someone's front lawn and making tactical use of some convenient shrubs.
4 comments:
I love that picture! I remember us drawing hearts in the sand at arcachon.
Now, you may or may not like this, but i have "blog tagged" you which means you are now part of this bizarre blog-question-answer thing that is doing the rounds. You will have to answer questions. You will have to post them on your blog. My page for more details. DEBUSSY X
wait a minute, did you *really* pee in some posh person's front garden?
It is hilarious (Hilarion) to me that the last 'e' didn't quite make it into the shot, thus reading "Wish you were her"
Naturally I wonder who she is and what makes her superior. Or perhaps with you posing, you are meant to be she, and the sand writer just wanted to point out to the world that we shall never be you, and how sad and unfortunate that is for all of us.
Hang on a moment, you mean to infer that you DON'T wish you were me?
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