Brean Beach - credit Unknown
Quitting the Rat Race

Retiring to Live by the Sea and Write Books – My Fake Journal – Episode 10

Woke up to another very still morning at six twenty. I often leave my bedroom curtains open – these places are moored quite high so the window if about eight or nine feet off the ground. If you were that desperate to look in you’d need a ladder. I often wish the van was the other way around, so I could roll over and see the beach. But then, I thought, that wouldn’t work either as I’d need the bed from ‘The Princess and the Pea’.

The bathroom thing includes a shower. I didn’t do the other two beach walks I normally do yesterday and it’s left me feeling a tiny bit ‘slothy’. There’s a song stuck in my head from the movie ‘American Beauty’ so I’m doing a little jig as I get dressed. Willow gives me a worried look before standing up, doing a ‘Halloween cat’ stretch and sauntering out. She’s seen it all before.

By the time I get up front and put the kettle on, the sky out front is pink. The tide’s starting to go out, but its still close enough for a paddle. There’s a giant white poodle on the beach and I care barely make out red ribbons and a pink collar. It’s bounding around like it’s never seen sand before. It’s that wide-open space thing again. As I make coffee Willow jumps into her hammock and zero’s in on the poodle. I don’t think she’s ever seen one. I open a small window so we can both hear the sea. She’s not interested in venturing outside at the moment. She was never really an outside cat.

I’m itching for a walk this morning so I quickly check weather and tide on the Chromebook. I quickly change my jeans for cut-offs and slip on my flip-flops which will no doubt start to rot at some point because of all the paddling.

Locking up, I leave for the sand and carefully navigate the steps. They’re not slippy or anything but I don’t trust flip-flops. It’s about twenty paces to the water and I decide to take them off. I go left. It’ nine degrees out but the water is warmer and I start a slow stroll, less than ankle deep, focusing on the rhythm of the small lapping waves. I let my shoulders drop and my back relax and while I’m walking I breathe deep for a minute or two, inhale for four steps, exhale for four.

In this reverie I calculate I’ve walked at a good pace for twenty minutes or so. I’m at the fluffy sand and appear to have caught up with the white poodle, who’s now plastered in sand and chomping on a stick which has some seaweed hanging from it.

As I turn back, I imagine its owners spending the rest of the morning getting the sand out of all that white fluff.

About this Series

‘My Fake Journal’ is a self-visualization. It is my future life happening right now. These entries will form part of a book called ‘Quitting the Rat Race’.

Read from Episode 1

About Samantha Dee

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