We sat down on a low wall to rest, which ran parallel with a path by the sea below. The beach had been raked, there was hardly anybody about, and the sun shone. All was well. I put my bike on its stand on the grass, and Sam leaned his against the wall beside him. We took in the view and sighed with contentment.
Behind us were a row of beach huts. After we had been sitting on the wall for about 10 minutes, an elderly woman opened up her beach hut opposite to where we were sitting. We thought nothing of it, and carried on looking out to sea. We chatted and decided to cycle to a cafe we knew that was quite close by and have some lunch.
Suddenly a voice emanated from behind:
“Do you mind if I put my chairs here opposite my beach hut? Will you be going soon?”
Without further ado the woman opened up two sun loungers within inches of Sam’s bike. There was plenty of grass around, and there was room enough to have put the chairs anywhere. However, we quickly got the message that this was her territory, and that we were ‘trespassing’.
Knowing Sam as I do it was totally the wrong thing to say, as he picked up the woman’s frosty tone straight away and decided to sit it out a while longer.
“In a while.” He replied (you can just see his back on the right hand side of the picture). Oh dear. Lunch would be around tea time at this rate. We were in for the long haul…
The woman seemed reluctant to sit down while we were there, but tutted and fretted and went to speak to the person you can see sitting there on the grass. Sam smiled a devilish kind of smile, and carried on sitting.
This reminded me of when we were first married, and a retired neighbour complained to me how Sam would wake him up by starting the engine of his van every morning at 7am to go to work. Sam thereafter ensured that his van was parked outside the neighbour’s house forevermore until we moved three years later.
If I hadn’t insisted that I wanted some lunch, he’d still be sitting on that bloody wall!