23 Degrees, Let's Head For The Beach

When I got into the car to leave work tonight the external temperature was 23 degrees centigrade, an hour later as Nathalie and I got back into the car after a walk along the beach at Boscombe it was still above twenty. The only reason we were heading for home was that I'd aggravated some torn tissue in my lower back.

Walking along the sand with the waves crashing onto the beach a few days before the Easter crowds arrive is wonderful. Those who had arrived early were huddled together in front of their family tent determined to make the most of half term. The three children shivering in the face of the onshore south westerly as their parents passed them salad rolls and bottles (plastic I hope) of yellow coloured liquid.

The most noticeable thing about the beach is how strong the winds have been this winter and spring, the sets of steps that lead down from the prom onto the sand usually present a four or five foot drop. At the moment you can step off the prom onto the beach as easily as stepping off a kerb to cross the road. On the prom itself middle aged couples were walking hand in hand, one couple arguing over her refusal to stop and talk on her mobile instead of continuing to walk and talk. He said she was rude. Three children played with their bikes and skateboard until one decided he'd rather ram one of his friends and a small fight ensued. Two mothers, with four children under five between them, are made-up for a night clubbing, it looks like they'll have to settle for formula milk rather than formulaic chat-up lines. Cyclists, yellow jackets, black helmets, laugh and exchange stories as they head west towards the slowly setting sun.

Nathalie wins the stone throwing competition. I win the walking back to the car competition. She tells me that she'll think of something we can compete in that she can win. Not while John Lennon's dead I reply. That's like, so random, she says.

She's thirteen in two days time. A teenager. Moments like these are so precious. Be careful not to let them slip through my fingers like the sand on the beach.