Pliny's Holiday (continued)

My companions having returned from Port Hughes, we returned to our cabin to prepare for the evening's entertainments.

At seven we arrived at the Beachfront Bistro, a pleasant venue with a magnificent view of the seafront carpark and jetty. Having ordered our dinner we were entertained by the sight of two young men on the esplanade attempting to film themselves doing twisting tricks upon their skating boards. The young men were models of perseverence, but were unable to perform the trick. We were glad of the entertainment for our dinner was a long time in arriving. Perhaps this is normal; I do not know.

I am not used to going on a holiday. I find it strange not to be doing productive work. After dinner we went for a walk along the beach to watch the sunset. The sunset was very beautiful. The clouds above the horizon took on deeper shades of red and pink and orange as we watched. At the same time the pale full moon rose over the trees behind the caravan park, so that every way one looked there was something of wondrous ephemeral beauty. Even the sand itself was a work of art, the artists here being cockles forming strange curling designs in the sand as they buried themselves for the night. Children were playing on the sand in the gathering dark, and a group of people talked and laughed under the jetty. I thought that perhaps the value of a holiday lies precisely in not doing productive work.

Later still, my companions deciding to go to Rossiters Point with a bottle of wine, and observe the human activities on the jetty and the motions of the tides and the stars, I took my leave and climbed down the cliff steps in the dark, to the beach, to see what might be taking place at night there. Soon I saw a figure with a bright light, walking bent over in the shallows, making a mighty swooshing noise with his legs. What are you doing? I asked him, but he did not reply. I asked if I might observe him, still he did not answer. I sat down on the sand and observed him anyway. Presently his wife arrived at the top of the cliff in a car and walked down the path to meet him. He took a long time to gather up his things. She walked back up the path ahead of him. He followed her but half way up the path he stopped. Are you alright? she asked. Even then he did not speak but remained silent. As if he had seen a ghost.

I returned alone to the cabin, passing on my way a house with a man sitting outside on an old settee listening to music and drinking something out of a can. As I passed he began to whistle strangely. I hurried to the cabin and went inside. Immediately I began to make my preparations for sleep. There was a bunk bed opposite the bathroom. I had never seen a bunk bed before. I thought it would be sensible to choose the bottom bunk, but something made me climb up to the top, perhaps it was the holiday spirit. Once there I fell asleep and slept soundly till the morning.

As for the following day's adventures, let them wait until tomorrow.

Vale!
Gaius Plinius Secundus