Continued from My First Time
It was a very warm day in Victor Harbour, one of South Australia’s favourite beach side towns, and as was the custom on superb days like this, Scott, Nads, Rouger and myself had decided to head there for a spot of surf and sand. We’d made the hour long drive in rattling cars with broken air conditioners, and I remember big furry seat covers that Adam insisted made the driving experience more pleasurable. I just remember them turning into airborne irritants, causing fur balls and massive clumps of belly button fluff.
We hit the water at about 1:00pm, just as the sun was at its fiercest, I was a little scared of it’s bite, but I knew that within 3 hours a “schnitzel parmi” and beer awaited me at the crown, I just had to be brave to be rewarded. I piled on the sun block, making my already pale complexion a colour slightly lighter than white. The water that day was perfect, it was cold, high and utterly possessed of attitude. Lining up on the sand, we prepared to attack the surf, I heard Rouger send up the call yelling “It’s Time To Harold Holt Bolt!”, in an instant we were all sprinting toward the foam, the last one to fall being declared the winner. I won.
The 3 hours were spent well, I know this because I was feeling pain by the time we decided to wade on in. My lips were like a salt flavoured chuppa-chup and my hair was matted like a dreadlock of dreadlocks. After dusting off and spraying our heads with instant conditioner, a trick Nads had picked up in a Cosmo magazine, we headed back to town full of confidence.
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