Well not any old seaside, but just anywhere on the stretch between Cadaques and Banyuls.
After a Girona airport drop off I took the opportunity to look at the infinite blue thing. Blue indeed it was, dashed with small angry waves thrown up by the strong wind we have all been a little tired of recently.
Such wild beauty that coastline: the vertiginous road winding around steep hills covered in wild lavender, cactus and umbrella pines; cove after cove, still quiet before the main influx of summer.
I stopped at a tiny inlet where, outside a solitary cafe, a family sat drinking 'mochitos' (not the kids) in their swim attire. I had removed my socks by then but was still rather in moth-eaten winter mode. It slightly reminded me of the time Mark and I went to Brazil in January. We arrived and were ushered to the beach by our hosts. I'm pretty sure I heard a low mass gasp from the miles of beautiful sun-oiled Brazilians as we revealed, reluctantly, our red/pink/white spotty sun-starved bodies.
This is a glass, or half, of rosé I was enjoying in Banyuls-sur mer. Gradually my winter-coping brain (checking the wood pile, making sure there is enough soup etc) is allowing those memories of summer pleasures to creep back. Swallows wheeling against the ever darkening azure sky, warm soft breeze; just to be able to sit outside and watch the world pass without feeling the need to get back under shelter.
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