August   Leave a comment

Harvest is happening. The hills of the South Downs are chequerboards of yellow and orange stubble. The Van Gough wheat fields are gone. The smell of harvest is in the air. Men smell of sweat mixed with outdoors and cut wheat after a hard day in the fields.
On the coast it is holiday time for the rich and poor. Darren and Sharon, their barbecue, tent, fishing rods, metal detector and seven children sit on the pebble beach near Felicity and Reginald with their chairs, table, bottle of wine, fresh salad and crusty bread.
It is a quiet beach far away from the big towns. The sea is peaceful. The most striking thing is the background silence. It is only when you leave the city, that you realise that you’ve become inured to its constant buzz.


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