One lunch time we see a party of 10 oldish men emerge from two taxis. They are balding, red faced and jovial. They are clearly on a spree. They have already begun their merrymaking. They take each other's arms, clap each other on the shoulder, and stagger towards one of the bars facing the sea. There they occupy three tables which have been pushed together. Their boisterous talk rises above the sound of the waves and every now and then they break into song. We cannot decide on their nationality or what language they are speaking. On closer inspection we see that a pale girl is sitting at the end of the trio of tables. In her hand is a clip board. We assume that she is some sort of travel guide and commend her privately for her equanimity. She is like a teacher in charge of an unruly mob of school children.
A middle aged couple are walking up and down by the sea, as people in every age group invariably do on our beach, a feature of constant interest. This couple is intent on practising one of those new exercises designed the keep the blood circulating and the brain ticking over. They walk normally for a while and then suddenly fling their arms up in the air and swing them around like orators who have taken leave of their senses in mid-speech.
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