No Night Sweats N o  N i g h t  S w e a t s No Night Sweats
Sydney's Post-Punk Bands
I Like Music
Slapp Happy are Terrific
A List of CDs
Text is What I Write
Crime Fiction is Silly
[ My 'Friend', The Sea ]
How many people have sung the praises of the sea? There must be millions of short stories and poems and novellas and yer actual big airport books that discuss, dissect, love and hate the ocean. Up until this time, I have not been one of this group because, after my early teen years, I've always associated the sea with the beach, which is then associated with Summer, which is intrinsically linked with a very bad case of sunburn I was once inflicted with - even though I was incongruously wearing a thick black suit in the middle of the day I managed to get extremely burned on the only exposed part of my body - the ankle where my pants had ridden up. 

However, this morning I went for a short bike ride along my beloved Illawarra bike track and the ocean was just about all there was - simply glorious. The sea spray tingling in every (laboured) breath I took. That damned ever-glittering surface that made me very happy indeed (even though I just KNOW that a small carcinoma is forming somewhere on my face because of it). The light, exhilarating breeze, the energetic people sweating every which way you looked and the little doggies playing catch-up (and an actual combination of these with a running mum pushing a pram containing a baby and, in it's own little alcove near the wheels, a puffed out silky terrier).
It was ALL fantastic : except for that stupid big hill on the way home.
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