Hasn’t it been the most blissful weather this week? I’m afraid I’m one of those people who worship the sun.
In fact I love the sun, the sea and the sand, so I admit that I’ve spent a good proportion of available time lately down on Southsea seafront and at Hayling Island.
I even took my laptop, notepad and stationery to the beach so I could sit there on the pebbles and work while I topped up my tan.
I can’t help it – I’m an Aussie originally, so what can I say?
However, I did do something in the sun this week that I haven’t done before – at least not in this country anyway.
I was out walking with my sister down at Eastney on Tuesday morning with her dog, Charlie, when we both had this overwhelming urge to run and jump in the sea.
It was so calm and tranquil and quite early in the day, so the beach was not particularly busy.
She went in with her clothes on. But as I was wearing relatively ‘normal’ underwear (boxer-type pants) I decided to strip off.
However, as inviting as the sea was, it was a lot colder than I had originally anticipated.
So I didn’t quite carry out the big dive bomb I was going to do. In fact I was a bit of a wuss and the length of time I took to slowly edge into the water right up to my waist meant the beach had got somewhat busier.
Fortunately for me, we were quite near the nudist end of the beach (I can assure you this was for dog-walking purposes and nothing else), so I didn’t feel too ashamed of my extrovert behaviour.
That was until a rather large group of runners came dashing by just at the point where I was rescuing my sister’s dog, who had got too far out of his depth.
There I was, standing in my bra and pants with a wet, shivering dog and looking everything but the beach goddess I dreamed of being.
I really should learn that the simple pleasures others get to enjoy are never going to be available to me.
Because when your name’s Cheryl Gibbs, things just seem to happen to stop that.