Ending Up With Six

Because it is now only warm in the middle of the day we went out in the middle of the day.

We took a picnic.

The picnic was egg and cucumber sandwiches. A seagull came to watch us eat the sandwiches. Yes, we were at the beach. We were the only people who didn't have a dog.

I had brought my camera. Everywhere there were beautiful scenes. Yachts with coloured sails crowded the horizon, and painted clouds reflected tranquilly in the water pools. Stacks of seaweed mouldered in the sun. A razor shell stood up of its own accord.

Outside the kiosk a redhaired cherub ran away from her brother and hid. An old woman and an old man with a walking stick walked slowly off the jetty arm in arm. A fat lady carried a loaded tray inside. The sun glared lowly.

I took sixteen photographs.

When I got home I was unhappy twice. First because I somehow lost the photographs. Then Allan found them. But second because the beautiful scenes had retreated and diminished, and I ended up with six.