Parts of the train trip from Florence in Italy to Nice in France ran on the coast. It is an indication of how much I'm missing getting wet that I was watching wind waves no bigger than 30 centimetres from peak to trough and thinking "you could probably body surf that". When one had the smallest little face I was mind surfing it on my log.
I am currently on the French Riveria. The European version of a beach is a collection of rounded rocks and sun lounges. Plenty of budgie smugglers and pasty white flesh.
Maybe I'll luck into a freak day ......... Probably not.
Catch one for me.
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