Unexpected Company
We paddled out into the dark this morning, three members of The Brotherhood Of Madmen: The Snake Catcher, vigilant militant against any would-be drop-ins and wave thieves, The Uncle, staunch supporter of youth at risk and fatherless kids, and myself, The Baboon, master of surfing with an ungainly wobbly pink arse sticking out and pointing up. The stars overhead were bright and alert, the eastern sky a black featureless wasteland, devoid of light or sign of life, and the water of our sea was warm and welcoming. With the low tide we waded out through the shallows, side-stepping rocks here and there, till we made it to waist-deep and launched ourselves headlong onto our boards, paddling leisurely out onto the bay. The sea was calm and placid, with no wind scarring and chasing the water, and we paddled out into the middle of the water in our own sweet time, not chased by any pressures of sweep, dumping crashers, howling wind or clamouring crowds. In spite of its relaxed and peaceful appea...