Somewhere to love

After my swimming excitement yesterday, this morning we tried out the lifeguard-monitored section of the beach, just across the boulders. Another beautiful sweep of sand with, thank goodness, people in a variety of shapes, colours and ages - not just the frighteningly fit, uber-bronzed youth of the surfers beach next door. Jemima proceeded determinedly to befriend any child nearby (Chloe and Hugo, 2 and a half; then Mabel, 1 and a half; and finally Rosie, just 4). What this meant was that I was forced to befriend their parents while we supervised. But actually it resulted in a very pleasant morning of chatting to various Australians about Byron now and in bygone times; their bits of Australia (Canberra to Cairns - Rosie's mum managed the Lagoon that we had loved so much); and to Rosie's grandad about his pilgrimage to Ealing in London to visit the pub that used to be owned by his grandfather - sadly the locals were completely uninterested. I also got some great campsite tips from Hugo's mum, so it was a useful morning too. Plus Kevin and I both had wonderful swims, with a less scary current (and in between the flags...).

It had been a glorious morning, warm but not too hot because of the breeze. But as lunchtime approached, this started picking up (Rosie's family's beach umbrella went flying); so we retired to the van again for lunch and our afternoon rest. The wind got stronger and stronger; the awning of the caravan next door was ripped out of the ground; and reports from fellow campers was that the beach was too sandblast-y to be fun. So instead, Jemima and I ventured to the Byron Bay public swimming pool, next door to the campsite. (This holiday has reconfirmed that while I love outings, reading, and doing sticker/activity books with Jemima, I have very little patience for imaginative play, even on the beach, but for some reason water-based play doesn't bore me at all; whereas Kevin is the opposite - happy to make up games forever on dry land, less keen on an outing or the water.)

It was a lovely change from the beach, with Jemima spending most of her time underwater, as usual, diving for the plastic cups. But it got chilly in the wind, so we dried off, and met Kevin in the main seafront pub for a drink in the sunshine, before he took Jemima for an ice cream while I went to change (I'd remembered clothes for her but not me). We reconvened for dinner in the nearby seafront restaurant - lemon sole, yum; and then as our final hurrah, headed to the edge of the beach to find last night's dancers.

It was earlier, so still light; and so far tonight it was just drummers of various sorts, with a circle of people enjoying it, and one man dancing. Jemima immediately got in there, throwing herself around to the beat. This grew a little confused (I'm not sure everyone was playing to quite the same rhythm), so I asked her to choose which drummer we'd dance to; and of course, she chose 8 year old Phoenix, playing bongos (rather well) next to his mum. She very kindly offered Jemima a go; and with a look of disbelieving joy, Jemima joined the circle: sitting on a rock, with the sea at her back, banging on her bongo with gusto. It was a great moment, and a fitting farewell. We'd all fallen under Byron's spell; not somewhere to live, as Mooloolaba was; but definitely somewhere to love. (And proof it could still be enjoyed aged under 20, and over 30.)