It's Australia Day. In the afternoon we go to the beach. A blue sky and a warm strong flag-flapping hat-flipping wind at Grange.
As many people in the water as out. Forty people per hundred metres, I think.
They sit under vast no-sided tent pavillions, in canvas chairs, drinking, or shoulder-deep in water drinking pre-mixed drinks from cans. They play with small fat dogs.
Three sand flies march towards the waterline. Three seagulls peck at three half-eaten red-skinned apples on the sand. Four young women in swimsuits walk towards us, one with a pink parasol. Children carry fluoro boogie boards into the water. A blue and yellow fish kite flutters overhead.
Now there's a bare stretch of beach. The wind plaits the water like grass. A few wispy clouds curl up sportively.
A party spills on to the beach from a house. Young men play beach cricket with bottles and girls stand ankle-deep in the sea, drinking. The conversation: Where are you going? Europe. Just Europe? Yeah.
Two fat skuas sit on the sand looking sadly out to sea, a long way apart. The horizon is miles and miles away today.
Three passing girls stop momentarily. The one with blue lips says, leaning towards us, Happy Austraya Day!
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