It doesn’t matter whether you’re eating your favourite pudding. Watching your favourite film. Listening to your favourite piece of music. Hanging out in your favourite place, or being with your favourite person. Time moves on. Changes things. And so must we.
There are few places we come across on our travels where we want to stay a little longer. This is one of them. Aided and abetted by the warmth and sun of course.
We’ll be sad to move on from this little piece of paradise. So, we make the best of our last day. Get the bikes out again. Go in the opposite direction. Tootle around Zaton and its environs. See what we could have missed. Come across this pretty little backwater for one. . .
On our way back we stop off for our lunchtime sarnie. We do a Paul Simon. “Old Friends . . . sat on their park bench like bookends” . . . though not quite seventy – yet!
Back at base we arrange to meet up in ninety minutes by the pool. I’m off biking again. Want to take a look at what’s over the other side of Nin’s Queen’s Beach. End up on the far side of the bay. Run out of road. Only the forest behind left to explore. Check the time. Go do it.
By 3.35pm I’m horizontal and warming nicely. Like a browning marshmallow waiting to be dunked in cold custard.
Each evening’s walk to watch the sunset takes us past the familiar. Greeted by the same cat on our return. Ever eager for a chin tickle. Follows us for forty metres. Then gets bored. This time decides to hold up the lone car. Waits. Slowly and deliberately walks directly into its path. Comes to a halt. As does the car. Thinks about, as my mum would often say, “Playing the bagpipes”. The car honks. Makes his mind up for him. He saunters onto the verge. Tunes up. We can see what’s under his kilt!
A little farther on, this kenneled dog remains stoically on duty. Has he moved a muscle since yesterday evening? Uncharacteristically, he never gives us a second look. Not interested in scaring passing grokels. Has more sense. Interested in one thing only. His master’s voice.
Then before we know it, it’s 6.24pm. Another sunset sinks solemnly below. It’s on its way into tomorrow. Just like us . . .