The early morning bathers were silhouetted against
a rising near-November orange sun and seemed to
be steeling themselves for imminent entry. Most
were wearing beanies or had their hair in tight
bobs, but it was hard to tell against that glare. They
striped to swimwear and my teeth clattered in
empathy when all entered the sea, breaking waves
forcing most to raise arms in the air as if this would
save them. Two at the front soon plunged in while
the rest played at jumping and pretending to enjoy.
The older man was still in his car parked at the
other disabled spot further up the promenade, and
his wife was also – though difficult to be sure at the
distance – still asleep next to him. It was impossible
to know what he was thinking if watching the
bathers too.
.
Mike Ferguson
.