At the water’s edge

Margate, Kent, 1986

The first glimpse of the sea is always a thrill. Released from the car, often hot and sticky after a long drive, you make your way through the dunes, grass whipping at your legs, salt fizzing on your tongue. The sand is warm beneath your feet, but carrying the obligatory cool box and windbreak makes progress slow. Ascending the final dune, your heart quickens as you anticipate the view. One more step and you are at the top, marveling at the shimmering water stretching out below you. Propelled by some primitive urge you drop your belongings and race towards the water. The first wave hits your legs and you flinch at its icy touch, but when the second wave arrives you find yourself remarking, ‘It’s not as cold as I thoughtno way you are going in without a full wetsuit. Suitably refreshed you return to the windbreak and begin setting up camp.