Elain Abery - Lemon

She held on tight… to her skirt, blowing around her legs and gusting upwards, outwards, sidewards. To her hair, trying not to inhale as it hit her face, her eyes, her nose. COUGH COUGH, she expelled the dense, curly, not-so-dry stuff from her mouth.

Putting one foot in front of the other was easy. The wind seemed to pick up and propel her feet with no effort of hers. The effort was in keeping her feet covered in shoes… in landing her feet on the ground – and keeping them there.

“Hello”

“Hi”

“Good morning!”

“Oops!”

Sandy’s cap was carried away, chased by Mike and Sascha.

“Best leave our bags indoors today!”

The formed a small troop, up the stairs to the wind-security of the building.

“We would have been chasing our ever-disappearing gear, had we stayed outside.”

They laugh.

Caps on. Correctly clothed, they form another troop to head back down.

“Ouch!”

In unison, they turn their faces and bodies away from the gritty harshness of the wind. Grains of sand really hurt!

The water whips up around them, frothy, fiery, moving in swirls that mimic the twirly gusts of wind, like a willy willy in the outback.

“I can’t see anyone!” comes a laughing cry, not far away.

“Follow my voice! Then stick close”

One by one, we swim through the wind and choppy water, following the song.

“Oranges and lemons. The Bells of St Clement's…”