City switcher
City switcher
Search
The beach
Main Image
Blog Article
I’m headed for the warm waters of the KwaZulu-Natal coast for the Christmas holidays where my parents have retired to the coastal village I used to frequent as a child. My family was fortunate enough to own property a stone’s throw away from the beach. We’d get away to our cottage on occasional weekends throughout the year, but it was during the December festive season when we’d enjoy extensive stays at the beach. I have many childhood memories of these beach holidays – such as getting stung by a blue bottle (I had no idea urine or the fleshy green aloe plants growing prolifically nearby could alleviate the excruciating pain, so I just ran home sobbing); catching fish with my dad; body-surfing waves right onto the beach and trying unsuccessfully to sleep in the afternoon before we went to the drive-in to watch two movies back to back, with my eyelids held open by sheer force of will.
I also have wonderful memories of my daughter as a toddler frolicking in the pools that form at low tide and feeding the monkeys who would make daily visits to my mother’s kitchen door for fruit treats. We’re all so much older today, but I can’t wait to take long walks down this beach with my ageing parents and almost grown-up child, to plunge into the surf and feel the salt water sting my eyes, and to allow the many memories of the past to wash over me. And If I am unfortunate enough to be stung by yet another blue bottle, I will happily test that urine theory.
add your comments