Beach Joys and Sorrows

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23263, 4 February 1939, Page 12 (Supplement)

Beach Joys and Sorrows

Meditations of a Cynic By F.M

THE vehicles disgorged me, with a few hundred others, on to* the' sand ; and I looked about me with-eager interest on a scene of breath-taking beauty. To my left a rocky cliff, with noble pohutukawas and pines swaying madly in the piercing south-west wind.

Vet-ling a little dizzy watching these, 1 turned to the right and was calmed by the homely galvanised-iron bathing sheds and the dignity of the local gasometer. In front, away out at sea, sundry yachtsmen, hardy, hut finite mad, were pretending to enjoy the choppy sea and the bleak cold; while in the immediate foreground, it being low tide, could ho seen a vast and noble expanse of grey mud and mangroves, their monotony relieved by the serpentine windings of the district sewer. Sacred Ritual

With the benevolent curiosity of the observer and philosopher, I strolled about the beach to ascertain how the people spent their day. They were all dressed for the part as befitting our summer time: light dresses, shorts, blazers, and so forth, with an adequate supply of cardigans, overcoats, mufflers and Arctic equipment within hundv reach. 1 noted with interest that the procedure of the day followed a rigid timetable, thus confirming the conclusions 1 had come 'to on previous observations of beach etiquette and custom.

It appears that there is a solemn ritual which must be followed on a day at the seaside —first the rush for a favourite tree or sheltered nook in the sand, with triumphant chortles if secured, or wails of lamentation if unsuccessful. Secondly, the unpacking and general organisation—the "settlingin," as wo might call it; thirdly, tlio inevitable game of rounders or "throwball''; fourthly, the swim (a sacred duty, whatever the temperature may be^: fifthly, the main event of the day —dinner; sixthly, the somnolent'lounging of the afternoon; seventhly, the afternoon tea, which is usually as bic: a meal as the dinner, because of the generous reserve supplies in the commissariat.

Lastly, there is the departure, always an animated and musical scene, with yelling of tired youngsters, scoldings from mother, and wild vituperations from father, who finds at the last moment that his pipe has been trodden on, his. tobacco mixed with sea-weed, and his best Panama hat used as a toy boat.

Our Intrepid Race of Fishermen

It would appear that it is permissable for the ritual to be departed from in minor details, though not in its broad outlines.; For instance, on this particular day some enthusiastic anglers preferred to fish from the rocks rather than join in the juvenile ball-games ■which are our national beach sport. In that respect the fishermen had my heartfelt sympathy and approval. Moreover, they claimed my unwilling admiration when, as the day..wore on, I noted their qualities of optimism, perseverance, and British hardihood. To stand all day in a piercing wind on an exposed rock, to be drenched with the cold spray of the scornful Tasman Sea —to endure all this, I say, for the thrill of catching one two-inch sprat in the morning and one rusty meat-tin in the afternoon, awakens all our dormant national pride. Whenever the sight of our sleek Ukulele-playing youths raises base doubts as to our . vaunted British superiority, those unworthy suspicious are dispelled by one glimpse of those "fishermen of New Zealand": calm, cerene, majestic. No, wo cannot be a decadent nation. We can well imagine that the episode of Drake arid his game of bowls would in an emergency be re-

peated in its modern version all round tlie shores of our son-girt isle. ' Quick, the enemy cruises and bombers are coming 'up the channel!"—"O.K. Steve, just wait till 1 vo caught this piper and I'll be there." But wo digress. . . The swim next claimed my attention. Though this particular summer day was as cold as the disapproving eye of a Puritan witnessinir some Cavalier revels, the alf felt it their duty to bathe. W ltli a stoicism worthy of the best tradition of the Spartans, they emerged from tlie bathing-sheds dressed tor the ceienionv in costumes ranging from the cr;iudv and scanty modern affair to the friiletll and ultra modest monstrosities of pre-war vintage. Here is the tlnn nervous man, who gingerly samples the water with liis toe, and regrets his decision to indulge in a swim. There is the handsome man like a Greek god who dashes in _ without a qualm and is soon lost to sight out at sea. Yonder is the bathing beauty with scarlet lips and finger-nails, who declines to enter the water for fear of wcttiri"- her four-guinea bathing dress and washing off hfr facial decorations. Over there, the fat couple, who walk into the water stolidly, grimly, with tin; in.evitableness of Fate. And everywhere laughing, splashing, - natural kiddies, openly enjoying the bathe, cold as it is. Oh! Sec that girll over I there. A real swimmer if you like! Nothing artificial about her. Observe her on that old wrecked harge, poised for a due. What grace : what symmetry! Note the stream-lined curves —1 am relerring now to the hull of the barge, not to the girl. . . .

Sandwiches and Sand Ancl then to dinner. With amazement I perceived that there was nothing Spartan about the gastronomic part of'the day. Quite evidently these picnickers had eaten no breakfast, for as if by magic there appeared tablecloths literally groaning (if sand arid grass tables can groan) with joints, poultry, pickles, salads, cakes, and what not. Some people were risking rheumatics and gout by sitting on the damp grass; but most of the diners were on the beach itself, seemingly quite impervious to th<a creeping insects, the grains of sand living into their food by the wind, and by the cheerful hearty shakes of the wet dogs. And then a great peace descended on the scene. The champing of jaws blended with the subdued squeals of seagulls squabbling over the scraps (that is almost poetry, is it

not?), and with isolated phrases of conversation— ' "Yes, my dear, and I told him to mind 'is own business or I'd slap is face. ..." . „ ~ "Will va stop grizzling, Petunia? . . "Take va loot out of me. custard. . . "Well, * Bill, J reckon that the All Blacks could'vc put up a better show"Boo, hoo, Kido has piliohed me chicken-bone. ... . "Pass the jam across to ya mother i there's any left after you've finished with it. ..." "If only I'd' backed flaJtUebones in the third race I'd have made a wad. . . •" Varied Pleasures The afternoon was devoted to pleasures, each person according to his taste. The children had huge fun on the grinning wooden horses of a merry-go-round, and oil disillusioned flesh-and-blood donkeys, who did not grin, but meandered up the beach with, apparently, a sardonic conteyipt for the foolishness of humans: Lounging vacuous youths performed the hat trick by ,smoking endless cigarettes and'at the same'time sucking ice creams and chewing guliv —truly an astonishing feat. Young couples turned on gramophones or portable radios and listened entranced to the bleatings of buckcroos rtnd the gargles of bilious crooners. Some people read. Others frankly went to sleep and gave their gargantuan dinners a reasonable chance to digest. And so the day wore on till a black cloud, followed sharply by a cold drenching rain-squall, caused most ot the revellers to make a hurried and rather premature departure. With fierce jov 1 noticed that the lady with the painted face was caught napping and got wet after all. Hurried packing up . . . scurrying feet . . . abrupt decease of. crooners . . . the bulwarks of Empire, lone sentinels on the spraydrenched rocks, still fishing on ... 1 shivered and felt glad that I had brought my fur-lined storm coat with me.

"What :i lovely day we've had, mv dear," remarked someone scurrying past me. Well, perhaps she was right, this unknown lady. But personally these holiday excursions do not appeal to me. They are too promiscuous. Anyway, 1 would prefer the job of a furnnee-stoker in an iron foundry to picnicking, this summer of grace.