I finished up my last meeting in Perth on Wednesday about 6:30 p.m. It was an 11-hour day, that combination of enforced physical inactivity and mental exertion that is strangely tiring. (If there’s a physical version of ADD, I have it.)
I felt like I couldn’t possibly leave Perth without spending at least a little time at the beach, so I got a cab and, on the advice of just about everyone I talked to, went to Cottesloe Beach.
I walked a few blocks, then finally took off my shoes and socks, rolled up the legs on my pants as best I could, stuffed my suit jacket in my computer bag, and headed down to the water.
I don’t know why it is, but the surf is one of the few sounds that I can listen to all day, with perfect contentment. Maybe it’s because when I was a child, some of my happiest times were on the beach.
I’ve now been in the Atlantic, the Pacific, and the Indian Oceans. And some lakes.
After about an hour, I walked over to Amberjacks, a fish and chips place just across the street from the beach, and got some dinner.
There’s also a gelato place right beside it. The coconut and white chocolate gelato is outstanding.
By this time, it was about 9, so I got a cab back to the Sheraton, picked up my suitcase, and caught another cab to the airport. My fourth of the day; the Perth taxi and drovers association should send me a Christmas card.
[To the tune of The Beatles, “Hey Jude,” from the album “The Beatles 1“.]