Port Beach, Friday morning
The air smells of smoke, from the bush fires burning more than 300 km away. There’s a smokey haze on the horizon.
The sound of heavy industry drones behind me – trucks, brakes squealing, gears changing, are carrying sea containers, metal clashes against metal, beep beep beep sounds from what exactly I don’t know.
These sounds mingle with small waves rolling and crashing onto the sand, some sounding like small explosions; the squeal of small children; snatches of conversation brought on the breeze as people walk by. Occasionally I hear the slap of hands and arms hitting the water as swimmers glide by, some metres out.
So much for my morning routine, which I was trying unsuccessfully to write about yesterday. Today I got up, fed the cat, pulled my bathers on and headed to the beach.
A swim, a walk and a chat with a stranger are nevertheless a pretty good way to start the day. My morning routine comes later this morning.
(By the way I think I may have somehow hit post waaay too early when only a few sad letters were sitting on the page, so apologies)