“But it’s warm,” I say: swimming.
We’re in the sea. Can’t remember the last time I swam in the sea. It stretches towards the horizon. The sun beats down on us – it’s thirty three degrees at the moment.
Mum and the panther are on the beach. The panther doesn’t swim if he can help it.
“I reckon that’s Dad,” my brother says – looking towards the shore where someone is paddling towards us. We wave to him in the hope that he’ll spot us.
“This is great,” I say to my brother – and suddenly I feel content to be with my family in the sea. Seb doesn’t love me anymore, I think, and this pierces my heart. Pushing the thought away, I swim towards the horizon.
The attached photo is this morning’s outfit.
Happy Tuesday everyone!
*1941. By Agatha Christie. Hercule Poirot detective novel. One of my favourites…