take me to that other place

one of the things i most adore about homeschooling is that when we awake to a bright blue-skied day, there really is no option but to down tools, jump in the Tardis and dodge cars over the bridge for fifteen minutes until we arrive at our heavenly expanse of surf and golden sands - and i stretch out a towel and begin my sun worship while the lads spread out with a big spade and see if they can dig to China - and i lean over and snap this shot
while twirling eddies of sand waft up the beach - and suddenly the lads drop the spade and head off into wider opener spaces, up a rocky tussock-topped hill and practise flying from the sky to the dusty mounds below, sharing thrills and squeals - and i contemplate a surfy stroll and wet saltness in my hair, my nostrils fill with warm scents of yesterday's footprints and washed-up weed, and my ears ring like the inside of a seashell - i look up to the passing view of a dreadlock-haloed homme, sashaying along in jandals, the sand his swishing staccato, and i stuff my Turning Forty book back into my bag - and i wonder - and i think of all the beautiful people who've shared this air with me - the ones who've walked before, and the ones who'll come after - and i check the clock on my pink phone and realise that it's "time to turn"...