When we were in Sanxenxo I would get up in the morning and run down the promenade, past the marina, along to the lighthouse and back. On my way back I would go down the steps onto Silgar beach, take off my running shoes and socks and walk back along the beach. Some of the time I walked in the sea. You have to do these things.
Coming off the beach I would put my bare and rather sandy feet into my running shoes and walk the short distance back up to the hotel where I would shower the beach off my feet. I also tipped the sand out of my shoes. I emptied them again when we came back to Vigo, just to be on the safe side. I can see no trace of the beach in my running shoes.
So how is it that when I come back from running up the hill, around the back and down to the breadshop, here in Vigo where I am quite a distance from the beach, when I take off my running shoes and socks I find I have sand between my toes? The invisible remaining bit of sand in my running shoes makes its way through my socks and deposits itself between my toes. The ghost of Silgar beach! How long will this go on before the supply of sand runs out? This is one of life's little mysteries.
Down at the pool, in the late morning, I regularly see an elderly couple (a good few years older than I am anyway), she on a folding recliner chair, he on a towel on the ground. She has her earphones in and listens to music, I presume, on an early version iPod. He just sleeps in the sun. As a rule they are both on their backs (I don't suppose there is another position for the lady in the recliner chair) with their arms out to the side and bent upwards. It's that classic relaxed sleeping baby position. Their hands are open, loosely open in relaxation. The symmetry is perfect. Now, I find myself wondering, are they trying to extend their suntan onto the underside of their arms and their armpits? (Both are as brown as berries - presumably from years of coming down to the pool and stretching out in the sun.) Or is this a form of third age yoga relaxation that I have not heard about?
Yesterday I went down to the pool in the evening instead of the morning. We were busy recharging the mobile internet device and putting money on our bus cards and other sundry town-centre-based activities during the morning. By the time we got back it was decidedly too hot to be outside in the sun. I could have swum, I suppose, or simply stood in the pool to keep cool. As it was, I went down much later for a swim.
The evening clientele is quite different. Late mornings at the pool are quieter, some dedicated sun worshippers and a few swimmers. The occasional young girls practising their synchronised swimming routines. In the early evening there are children learning to swim, small boys who jump in on top of everyone regardless and young people throwing balls around and playing a kind of water based piggy in the middle. One young man was intent on showing off how many different swimming strokes he knows. It really is not worth doing the butterfly in our little pool - a couple of strokes and you are at the far end.
This is what life is reduced to when the weather is hot!