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A friendly bit of stone
In the greywacke tumble projecting from the sand which makes the East end of Houghton Bay beach, there's a sort of cup having the shape of a just-vacated beanbag. If you lie in it a small flat face makes a pillow for your head. If you sit there's comfortable shoulder support higher up. Greywacke is not stuffed cloth, and the sharpnesses saying hello to your calves and thighs seem quite hostile for the first minute or so, but on acquaintance they become quiet neighbours. It's quite an unlikely shape-set to exist in a jagged up-swing of tide-cut rock.
Monday was a really, really shit day. Nothing got done, three separate heft-having obligations went unfulfilled, thoughts and feelings organised themselves into a sort of chaotic military coup comprised mostly of coconspirators assassinating each other. Latish in the evening (on Sam's suggestion) I took Sasha the motorscooter out to Island Bay beach -- decided to go around the coast to the little lighthouse on Miramar peninsula --- stopped at Houghton Bay beach because I'd never noticed it and hey -- saw while standing in the middle of the beach in my impractical shoes a just-vacated beanbag up a greywacke tumble over at the East end. A bit like an aha! moment with a jigsaw puzzle except one piece was my body and I hadn't known I was puzzling. Once I got there and my legs established relations with the sharpnesses I stayed for what I would guess was an hour and so was probably a half hour, before a wave from the rising tide came and doused me slightly and I decided I should get home to a hot shower and cheese on toast and bed and Sam. The light over the west curve of the bay was almost out by that point. Tuesday night I went earlier, and stayed less long: there was barely a touch of dusk when I was leaving and the tide was not high, but Sam had dinner for us, baked potatoes and chorizo sausages and carrots and cauliflower in white sauce which we ate in front of the first episode of the new DC Titans show, before a long, good sleep. Tonight he's at a friend's birthday with Sasha. I considered busing to the bay, since the bus runs straight from our place there, but in the end I practised doing makeup instead, and watched the first half of La La Land, after figuring out that Birdman was not going to be a good idea.
Monday was a really, really shit day. Nothing got done, three separate heft-having obligations went unfulfilled, thoughts and feelings organised themselves into a sort of chaotic military coup comprised mostly of coconspirators assassinating each other. Latish in the evening (on Sam's suggestion) I took Sasha the motorscooter out to Island Bay beach -- decided to go around the coast to the little lighthouse on Miramar peninsula --- stopped at Houghton Bay beach because I'd never noticed it and hey -- saw while standing in the middle of the beach in my impractical shoes a just-vacated beanbag up a greywacke tumble over at the East end. A bit like an aha! moment with a jigsaw puzzle except one piece was my body and I hadn't known I was puzzling. Once I got there and my legs established relations with the sharpnesses I stayed for what I would guess was an hour and so was probably a half hour, before a wave from the rising tide came and doused me slightly and I decided I should get home to a hot shower and cheese on toast and bed and Sam. The light over the west curve of the bay was almost out by that point. Tuesday night I went earlier, and stayed less long: there was barely a touch of dusk when I was leaving and the tide was not high, but Sam had dinner for us, baked potatoes and chorizo sausages and carrots and cauliflower in white sauce which we ate in front of the first episode of the new DC Titans show, before a long, good sleep. Tonight he's at a friend's birthday with Sasha. I considered busing to the bay, since the bus runs straight from our place there, but in the end I practised doing makeup instead, and watched the first half of La La Land, after figuring out that Birdman was not going to be a good idea.
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