Friday, November 11, 2005
I've just returned from having some blonde streaks put in my hair. This is an important pre-holiday step as far as I'm concerned because 1) there will be many photos taken by the snap-happy Fatty, and I am a vain creature (not vain as in, 'good golly I'm gorgeous' - more vain as in, 'if I have to look at photos of myself, I'd like to at least try to look moderately attractive'-type vain), and 2) there is no chance of me achieving any kind of natural, sun-kissed look, when I am fair and freckly and must shun the sun like a vampire.
So why, then, am I about to go for a week at the beach? Because that's what you DO in Australia (besides, that's what suncream, hats, sunshirts and sarongs are for, right?!). It's what I look forward to all the rest of the year. There is nothing like a holiday by the water for soothing the soul. I love the waves - splashing with my half-frightened kids in the shallows, or going out further and half-terrifying myself with waves that are so big I must dive under them or be forced down & tossed about. I love the sandcastling and sandpool-digging. I love lying half-asleep on a towel (for short periods of time, so as to not become lobstery).Even better, though, than the beach itself, is just being near the beach. You can hear the soft crash and recede, crash and recede, especially in the quiet of the night. You can breathe that salty air. From where we stay, we can sit on our back balcony and survey that infinite blue ocean. It honestly is the happiest time in my life - each year at the beach.
So tomorrow I'm off for a week. When I return, I'll be so laid back I'll be horizontal. Instead of being a mildly-uptight harried housewife/worker, I'll be the quintessential laconic Aussie... stunning everyone with my lazily-delivered highly amusing prose. Just you wait.