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Meredith met her match down at the wharf that fateful Saturday afternoon in late winter. Until disaster struck, she had been having a delightful time, as the saying goes, ‘simply mucking about in boats’. She had done this most weekends since leaving the family home in Haberfield and moving to a compact apartment in Elizabeth Bay. No-one in her family had much to do with the water prior to this, certainly none has ever considered sailing as a chosen past-time. This all changed when Meredith bought her place overlooking the marina. At the time, it was the right apartment in the right location. It was a wise investment.
She could see the giant masts. The voices of the sailors floated on the breeze. The ropes flapped. The hooks clanged. Sea-gulls wheeled overhead. Everything conspired against her.
Then, as she struggled down the gangplank with her victuals, Meredith collided with Pierre.
2 comments:
All that flapping and clanging and gulls wheeling just make me feel plain uncomfortable ... I am not a fan of the sea ... its a place to visit occasionally and then go home to peace.
So, I will write something similar with a rural setting .. let me find an image first.
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