We trundled down the beach last night, just as the sun was going down and the heat was starting to back off and it was all there was for it. Thom and Jonella and Norty, as well as Jonella's sister, brother-in-law and nephew. And me. We traipsed down as a group, Jonella's place being only a few hundred metres from the beach. We women had our bathers under our sundresses. The men folk had it easier and wore their swim shorts and a t-shirt
As somebody who grew up on the fine, white, sandy beaches of Adelaide, I've never been that inspired by the beaches of Port Philip Bay. The sea's too flat. It's a big septic tank into which every storm drain in Melbourne empties. Overcrowded and dull spaces which are lauded far more than they should be. Give me an Adelaide beach, especially the ones where I come from - Silver Sands and Sellicks Beaches - where you can drive your car down onto the sand, where the horses frollick most mornings. Beaches, which occassionally have a rip, and a long shallow walk out to a sand bar on a good day. Beaches with that tiny bit of danger attached to them, seeing that in the height of summer, they have been known to be patrolled by Great White Sharks. Pods of dolphins pass you by now and then. And on some days, there are waves. And real waves, wave that come in sets of seven, waves that will dump you down to the sand below without a thought. These are things rarely seen in the bay.
But being New Years Eve, and all of us, with the exception of the nephew, were over fifty, and it still being over thirty degrees at eight at night, the beach was the only place we wanted to be.
I'm not somebody who's overly comfortable in the sea alone, but being with people raises my confidence. I felt strong, happy and just thrilled to be among friends.
Age is a great leveller. I cast off my dress and stood there on the beach in my bathers before heading down to the water, looking over the setting sun.
It felt totally appropriate to see off 2021 with a dunk in the bay.
Being still under the thrall of COVID its current evolution, being outside, yet around people felt good. Being with friends, all having similar knobs and excresences which you don't forgive at 20, but don't give a stuff about after forty felt good.
We made our way into the water. Thom's way of getting you under is to go chase his hat which he throws out a few meters. Once you're in, you're fine. Your core cools off. The girls all checked out each other's pedicures as we floated around, keeping an eye on the sun, which took its merry time to dip behind the horizon.
But most of all, we allowed 2021 to be washed from our souls. Another strange year. Another year of lockdowns, and swab tests which make you feel like you've been fucked up the nose, and a year of wandering around your flat wondering when you can get out again. A year where you look to the paper for the infection and death numbers. A year when you think things are fantastic when you don't have to wear a mask outside - now that is freedom, you think.
And then we wandered back when the sun had really gone and the night was falling, where we sat down for a lovely thrown together dinner, some wine, the odd sip of bourbon and a lot of very bad dad jokes.
To me, this is what New Year's Eve is about. Friends, food, fun - and the chance to wash what was a difficult year into the big drain which is Port Philip Bay.
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