Holiday Town

Sat in the kitchen, full up and sleepy after a dinner of grilled kippers and (exotic) mushrooms, all washed down with a can of diet coke. Watch the sunlight on the roofs opposite, the long drawn shadow of the chimney on the tiles, the church spire beyond, that summer blue sky.
Rumours of it reaching 30'. When I leave work at lunchtime, I step out of the office environment into a holiday-summer. My head is still full of child trust fund accounts and ISAs, stakeholder investments and 'I'll just pass you over to the bond team, as I only deal with the childrens savings on this line here'. Outside is very different. A whole swathe of people are heading to the beach, some in their bathing costumes, topless men swigging cans of beer, children clutching toys. I forget I live in a holiday town sometimes.
I would have been very disappointed with Brighton Beach if I came here on a childhood holiday though. The beach is made of stones after all, and I would have missed making sandcastles.