Today we went to the beach and I goofed around trying to take artsy photos of my feet disappearing in the sand, of the waves dribbling in and all of that. But today was really marked by finishing The Time Travellers Wife for the second time.
In this picture I’m sitting at a picnic table by the beach reading (and trying hard not to cry in public because it might be OK to laugh out loud on a Melbourne train while reading a Nick Earls book, but there is probably something creepy about bawling your eyes out while reading in a public space) with the onshore breeze cooling my damp bikinis (and equally damp dress) while Dylan played on some play equipment. We’d not long gathered all of our stuff from the beach, where we’d been lying in the shade of a huge tree and frolicking in the sea.
I can’t remember the last time I read a book on (or near) the beach. Bliss!