All I shall want to do then, I expect, will be to lie in bed, reading books about children who make sandcastles with yellow walls, who watch the tide, who make themselves sick on too many ices…ġ. Sometimes I wonder what my ideal holiday will be when I am old. Above all, I want to listen to different musical rhythms.īut I still need my companions – not, of course, to play on the sands and eat ices with, but to talk to on warm moonlit nights. I want to smell different smells I want to see different kinds of trees, flowers and plants and I also want to see people wearing different kinds of clothes. I no longer want to build sandcastles, but I love sunbathing and the sand running through my fingers, and I look forward to sitting down to a good meal in the evening. I still like the sun and the warm sand and the sound of waves breaking on the beach. Sometimes we left the beach and walked in the country, exploring ruined houses and dark woods and climbing trees.Īlthough I am now an adult, my idea of a good holiday is much the same as it was. In those far-off days the sun seemed to shine constantly and the water was always warm. We made sandcastles with yellow walls, and watched the tide destroy them we played football, we splashed each other in the water. All day, I seem to remember, I played on the sands with my friends. When I was a boy every holiday that I had seemed ideal.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |