How do you thank members of your family for such a gesture? I rise to my feet and casting my eye round the lunch table provide a vignette memory of encounters with each of those present. My notes are their faces which fortunately I can still identify. A speech, I think to myself, where my notes are their faces.
Every year a busker performs in front of the restaurants opposite the sea. He is an Italian clarinetist (not a very good one, I think) who has hit on the idea of trundling around an amplifier on which he plays recorded versions of classical music, for example Mozart's clarinet concerto - and at moments which he considers appropriate, makes his own live contribution. This year for a couple of days the amplifier breaks down. What an improvement! The reedy voice of his instrument, unaccompanied, weaves in and out of the sound of the sound of the breakers, bringing a sad, plaintive and above all genuine note to his performance. For once he has my enthusiastic support.
Litter is seldom seen on the beach. Every morning council workers clean and rake the sand. But most important, beach users belong to a responsible and considerate culture. One man lying on the beach near the spot from which we swim has a cone-shaped ashtray with a lid. The sharp end of the device goes into the sand. When he has finished a cigarette, he stubs it out in the sand and drops the end into the open end of the cone, covering it with the hinged lid.