Monday, June 16, 2008
in which the fish is given back her clothes
On Tuesday I expressed the regret that my top was being danced in by sea-creatures.
"I won that top, in the Mollymook Ocean Swim. This year, I won nothing. You would know, you were there both times" I told the sea.
"And what's worse, both Miss Jane and myself were thrashed out of hand by some Olympic swimmer, which is sort of not fair."
The very next day, up at the northern end of the beach, where the steam rises early in the morning, just before you get to the cliff, there was my Mollymook top, twisted on the tideline. Thoroughly embedded with sand and weed, which made it all the nicer.
"We want this not" said the sea and I smiled. I said thank you.
I looked on the label. It is made out of 100% recycled plastic, which cancels out any notion of aquatic philanthropy. I vowed never to leave such items anywhere near the edge ever again.
I washed it and dried it but it remains, permanently I suspect, interwoven with tiny fronds of seaweed, redbrown and pale cream, they are woven in so tight. I rather like the effect: I am wearing it now.
For the last three days the sea has been in a right temper and waves the size of tall buildings have been thundering in, but I have not wavered, and have entered the sea, temper and all.
It has been utterly terrifying