Tuesday, 13th May 2008 – 4.00pm
I only know that it’s 4pm because the time is on the taskbar of this notebook. Joel and I took our watches off when we arrived here yesterday, and have simply decided we’re not putting them back on until we leave. We don’t care for timetables. We’ll just go with the flow for a few days. A big deal for people like us, often living by the clock, and always, always on time.
So. Here’s my question.
At what point to you think that one might be too relaxed?
Is it when you’re sitting in the most amazing little inlet. Clear water lapping perilously close to your feet. Listening to the sounds of your 5 year old son squealing and laughing in delight as he is chased along the sound by his roaring father. Sitting on a picnic blanket, with the nearly 8 month old baby between my legs. Watching the baby transfixed by the kite surfer (well, just the kite, I guess), the breeze whooshing through his golden ringlets.
Realising that soon enough, you’ll need to head off. Samuel will need a sleep soon, and Alexander will be hungry (AGAIN. O.M.G!). Feeling like a relaxed puddle of yourself, stretching out languorously, toes enjoying the soft, warm sand. Figuring you could just stay here forever. Maybe Joel could bring you food. Deciding that rather than move from this very spot, Samuel could just sleep here in the pram. That it’s about time that Alexander learned to forage for food (he’s 5 after all – time he grew up ;) ), Anything not to move from this spot.
Gosh I’m relaxed. I’m ridiculously, obscenely relaxed. Plus. I have two words for you people.
Holiday. Sex. :)