Settling In...

Beginning to get the hang of Sandy Beach. As we suspected, it's less flashy than Diggers and has more of the air of one of those small, slightly seedy and deliberately unpolished Normandy seaside towns, minus, unfortunately, the boulangerie. Perhaps there's an opening there.

Mornings still see the trek to the beach, but it's much less trendy, less an aggressive lifestyle choice to be flaunted, and more of simple pleasure. End of the afternoon, everyone, young, old and middling, goes down to the sea, to walk, swim, surf or body-board. But "everyone" doesn't equate to a great many people so there's acres of room.

Most people wander down in their cozzies with a towel over their shoulder. Small, black Speedos seem to be the garment of choice for gentlemen of a certain age and figure, which is a bit of drawback, but they seem to be past caring. I don't think they're trying to make a fashion statement. The surf is good for beginners and I'm looking forward to getting my own board to sample it. For the record, I've progressed to a hard board, as opposed to a learner's soft board, and I'm told I'm ready to go out the back. This is very exciting, though the estate agent who sold us our house did confess to me that he had to be rescued at Diggers after paddling out on the rip and, well, failing to get out of the rip and heading off for New Zealand until the lifeguards caught up with him. So excitement needs to be tempered with caution.

As for the house itself, we have a vigorous type of grass which is keeping the new motor-mower fully occupied, and the ceiling fan in the bedroom is a boon on hot nights. Unlike those I've lain under in India and Pakistan, it doesn't threaten to fall from the ceiling, carving chunks out of your sweating flash, thus keeping you wide awake despite its cooling effect. Shelves for books, LPs and CDs have been commissioned from surfer/carpenter Matt from San Diego who lives on another beach down the coast.

Unfortunately, in many ways, I have to go back to work on the Independent for two weeks. But the Pacific Ocean will still be there, glittering in the sun, when we drive over the rise at the end of our road every evening on our way home.