[ WP ] Mundane Monday : Let 's take a walk

The seafront in Hunstanston never lets me down. Especially on a windy, warm day. Windy *and* warm are a seldom seen combination on the British coast. Windy, sure. Too much wind. Like my Granddad after a roast dinner, God rest his soul. What does God rest his soul even mean? Is one's soul normally busy up there until God tells them to chill the fuck out? Is my Granddad doing push ups on the work out cloud until God hands him a cold one and tells him to grab a shower? `` Please, earth walkers'' I imagine him screaming. `` Please ask God to rest my soul, my arms are bloody achey.'' A few press ups each day would probably have kept him in the land of the living a little longer, I reckon. 
 
 
 
 He loved the seafront, for the girls, of course. A gust of wind and a summer dress was all it took, and Granddad's elbow was digging firmly into my side. `` See the hind quarters on that?'' he'd jibe. For some reason, it pleased him to talk about women as though they were prized farm animals. Grandma would roll her eyes disapprovingly. `` Harold'' she'd plea. `` He's only 13. I'm the only woman in his life.'' And she was. I remember, even at the tender, spotty age of 13, feeling a sense of comfort in the fact that Grandma was more concerned with my carnal desires then Granddad's. It made me feel important. Loved. 
 
 
 
 I walked across the pier, where an audacious seagull approached me in search of food. Not today, I'm afraid, you big bastard. Seagulls are weirdly big. And kind of ugly. This particular one struck a worrying resemblance to my old teacher, Mrs Ferdley. Maybe she had assumed seagull form, Harry Potter style, to keep an eye on her ex-students at weekends. That would be so her. She was always a nosey woman - in the sense that she cared too much about the private affairs of her students and in the sense that her nose was massive. There were times when she'd come back from the summer holidays with a bit of a tan and I'd be genuinely surprised to find that the bottom half of her face had escaped the shade of the huge parasol arching over it. Perhaps I was being a little harsh; this seagull's nose was n't that big. 
 
 
 
 Standing at the end of the pier made me feel a little like I was on the Titanic. I stared over at the ocean and wondered where the ashes of my grandparents were. Floating around in there somewhere, no doubt. Maybe an ugly seagull poached one or two flakes, and I'm sure there were a few peckish fish that confused them for bread crumbs, but I reckon most of them are still swimming about, keeping active. That's the mission when you get old, apparently. You've got to keep active. Keep your body, and your mind active. Sudoku in the Daily Mirror everyday, and bowls twice a week. That's the killer combination, if you'll pardon the expression, that both of my grandparents executed, if you'll pardon the expression, for the last 15 years of their lives. Fat lot of good that did them, though. 
 
 
 
 One can do their best to prevent an impending heart attack or high cholesterol levels, but there's very little one can do to legislate for a 14 year old boy with an eye on a huge inheritance and the keys to his grandparent's beach house.
