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| Photo by Spike |
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| Betty and Spike emerge from the surf. | | | |
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We drove from Ashfield to Avalon (me, my mother and Spike) in the Transcendental Transit Van. It may not be the fastest vehicle on the road but it seems to me these days to be as much a part of me as my beard.
It was the hottest day of the summer maybe so the stiff breeze off the sea was welcome as we sat in the shade, watching the Sydney summer kick-in before our eyes. Spike took a couple of dips in the sea; fell over more than once in the tumbling surf. Bracing, might be a word for it. Two weeks short of her eighty-first birthday my mother walked through the white horses (as she calls them) of the Pacific Ocean. If I have any determination to get on with life, I know where that inherited quality comes from.
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| Avalon Beach. Photo by Spike |
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