Sand; Ampersand; Pearl

1. Sand.

We went to the beach twice on the weekend. On Saturday we went to Tennyson. The sand was white and soft and hot. I took off my shoes. The sand was already inside.

The sand was broken and in disarray. A horse had galloped over it. There is a special way of telling that. It is by the marks of the horse's shoes.

The sand was ugly. It looked as though a battle had been fought there. Smashed and bashed.

Heaps of seaweed had fetched up on the sand at regular intervals. Each heap looked like something. A lobster, a duck, a fish, a giant bee, laid flat out.

Under the water the sand was squelchy and sucked at our feet.


2. Ampersand.

On Sunday we were at Brighton. It was a very hot afternoon. The tide was coming in; there was not much sand to stand on, near the rocks north of the jetty.

A party of people stood between the rocks and the sea at the end of a ramp. They looked peculiar. They stood in an informal arrow formation. At the apex, an old lady in a wheelchair, shaded by a yellow and brown fringed parasol. We thought it might be a wedding. A funny wedding.

We went down the steps to the beach south of the jetty. Here there was plenty of sand. The sand was soft and white and hot. I took off my shoes but the sand was already inside.

We finished our walk. I put on my shoes. It was half past four.

Grandma, the wheelchair and parasol had gone. The rest of the party were still there, laughing. I knew that it wasn't a wedding.

At eight thirty we were driving home in the car. I was aware of the sand. The irritating sand. I thought that when I got home there might be pearls between my toes, although toes are not oysters.


3. Pearl.

That is not to say the human body is incapable of producing a pearl. I know that it is. Once, one came out of my leg. To be truthful it wasn't really a pearl. More like a perfectly round tiny grey stone.

Had it been a real pearl, I'd have kept it.