The other day, I lost my keys at the beach. If you’re used to a seaside seething with people both in and out of the surf, this may not seem like a big deal. But Cyprus has a lot of coastline to choose from (countries ranked by coastline length), and I was on a stretch of sand the length of several football fields – with not a soul in sight. Not one person to point out where I’d buried my keys under my towel before heading in for a dip. And where exactly I’d placed that towel before the wind blew it half way down the beach…
I’m forever doing things like this when I’m near the water – which, living on an island, gives me an excellent excuse for my inanities 90 per cent of the time. There was the time I tried to windsurf as far as I could, forgetting that I hadn’t yet learnt to turn around, and had to hitch a lift back from a friendly coastguard. The day I lost a contact lens after an especially vigorous wakeboard session and had to drive home with one eye closed like a flirtatious vamp. And then there’s the snorkelling incident when I happily played Count The Starfish for over an hour, before emerging from the waves beautifully tanned on the back and blindingly white on the front!
But, despite my frequent misadventures, I’m still always down at the beach, whenever I can get there (click here for the link to breaking down in Cyprus). It’s the getting back that’s usually the problem… if anyone finds a set of keys buried in the sand near Napa, let me know!
alix norman 