On the crescent of beach, known as St Sebastian, people have the habit of walking the 400 meters from end to end for pleasurable exercise. This morning I watch a couple engaged in this ritual. They walk from one end to the other, he with resignation, she with a determination almost militaristic. She in a bikini top, he in white shorts and a baseball cap. She swings her arms and holds herself upright; he ambles, his head forward, his shoulders slightly bent, his arms dangling. Her short legs and his longer ones seem, by some miracle, to keep in time, and they manage to keep pace with one another.
This afternoon, on the sea front , a young woman lies asleep on her side on a bench. Beside her is a push chair. In the push chair is a small baby asleep. The woman`s arm is thrown across the push chair, her hand reaching across the sleeping child.
Yesterday afternoon, the waves gradually washed up a long line of driftwood - trunks of trees, uprooted vegetation, bamboo-like stems and tangles of foliage. This morning first thing, men in blue uniforms from the Sitges town hall arrive with a white truck, brooms and shovels. Into the bags go the jetsam, and before long, there is a line of full bags following the tide line. The bags are thrown on to the back of the truck. The yellow sand of the beach is restored to its pristine state.