SASSY TOWN FOLLIES by Felicity Appleton no.2, January 15

Perfect Beach Weather

It’s been hot over the last few days – I had been wondering where summer had got to – and that meant a bit of fun last Tuesday.

Christmas Day was cold and rainy and the rest of December was mostly disappointing as well, but the first full week in January promised to deliver for those of us who love it when girls and guys start to show a little bit more skin, when dress rules are relaxed at work, because there would be a revolt if they weren’t, and when Havaianas are seen on feet and you can get a good look at who puts time into painting their toe nails properly.

The Bureau of Meteorology said that Tuesday would be not just hot but very hot. Over 40 degrees, they said. All the weather apps on my iPhone said roughly the same thing. I’ve become a bit obsessed with the weather. My dad is too, and so is my uncle, and they passed on the obsession, I suppose. It’s a good thing to keep informed about. The weather reports on TV newses are frequently inaccurate and you can get more detail from the bureau online. You can also watch the radar screen, to track exactly where the rain clouds are and where they seem to be heading – the radar has saved my life on a couple of occasions when I might have chosen to wear something that wasn’t rain-friendly to an outdoor event if the coloured blobs which represent storms hadn’t advised me against it. I’m a bit of a nerd sometimes. A weather nerd.

Some people whinged on Tuesday, if you can believe it, about it being hot. Hot, in summer,  in Australia. It’s supposed to be hot in summer in Australia. Isn’t it? Anyway, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Heather and I had arranged a little outing after work and I thought about it all day long. We decided to go to the beach, like we used to. Heather and I would always go to the beach after school and we’d talk about boys and swim and eat soft serve ice creams from the Mr. Whippy van. The man who sold the ice creams was a bit creepy, and we later learned that he was involved in something unpleasant: there was a small scandal, if I remember rightly, and my brother Charlie told me there were police all over the beach one day, but I was studying for my Year 12 exams and so missed the excitement. When I went back to the beach the Mr Whippy van and the creepy man were both gone.

Anyway Jonsey the boss wasn’t in – he’s already on a business trip – so I left a bit early and drove out to Manly and picked up Heather on the way. I played ‘80s music on a mixed tape – yes, tape, my car is a bit of a bomb – as we drove. There were Tears For Fears, Culture Club, and Spandau Ballet. We sang ‘Walk Like An Egyptian’ as we skipped across the burning sand and did flips off the jetty into the lukewarm water. It was heaven. We dangled our toes in the lapping waves as the sun began to set. Children were still playing with their parents as we made our way back across the still hot sand and ate peppermint Magnums while we waited for the shoddy air conditioning in my car to take effect.

It was like being fifteen again, but better, as we drank white wine afterwards.

Published in: on January 15, 2013 at 7:10 pm  Leave a Comment  

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