I walk up Melon Hill, toeing the chained logs there to save the dunes, and
feel the backs of my ankles stiffen.
Puffed, I take a break halfway as an older couple slowly pass descending.
"It's even harder going down," he says. She replies, "Poppycock." He winks
and walks on.
When I reach the top what breath is left in me is taken away by the sight of
blue Indian Ocean to the horizon and my childhood days run up to greet me,
all sand and sunburnt shoulders.
There is a plague on a stone on Melon Hill's highest rise, proudly declaring
the artillery that once was there to save us from 'the yellow peril' ...
It is such a peaceful scene - and then my mobile rings ...
--
Andrew
http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/aburke/
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