Showing posts from December, 2009

For Stu

With a beam of sunlight burning across my chest, I wake up late. My alarm didn't go off and now I am an hour late to meet Sarah. She's going to be pissed.


A quick check of my phone confirms this with one missed call and four texts sitting there waiting for me.

I pull on yesterday's clothes, clean my teeth and gulp a glass of water before lugging my board out and angling it into my car. Get in there!! Why is everything so hard when you're in a rush?

On the way to the beach I get stuck behind someone driving ten under the speed limit, which is simply frustrating. As we round the headland I can see the swell... if that's what you could call it. It's small and lumpy and the wind is already picking up.

Damn it!

I follow the slow driver all the way to the beach, where they take the last available parking space, leaving me to drive back up the top of the hill, to park and walk back down. Stupid morning joggers. I didn't even check to see if Sarah's car is the…

Saturday double-ups!!

I love home.

And I love that even when the waves are mediocre and the wind is onshore and the clouds are gathering and the BBQ cooks too slowly, my friends still get excited.

(Photos stolen from the lovely, Ms Rose Speers)


I comfort myself with the knowledge that men like Derek Reilly - men who allow sex to be described as "consensual rape" in print - are destined to have daughters.

Independent, feisty, promiscuous daughters.

Life tends to work out like that.