Saturday night super heroes

Quite why there was a group of young people dressed as super heroes on the beach this evening is anyone’s guess. No flying in evidence, but plenty of wigs and capes and health-giving swigs from communal bottles of kryptonite.

An hour earlier, a teenager in a sunny yellow tee-shirt had pleaded with me outside the corner shop to go in and buy him cigarettes and vodka as I passed by. I gently declined, not as much on the grounds that he was under 18 but because I’m a regular at the shop and generally buy nothing stronger than Diet Coke (or Perrier if I’m really living it up). My friends behind the counter would have been in no doubt that the cheap cigarettes and unbranded spirits were not for me.

It brought back into my mind being asked for ID when I bought cigarettes in a 24-hour shop off Times Square. I would like to flatter myself that the cashier thought I was under 21, but even my (then 36 year old) ego wasn't buying that as I flashed my passport; more likely that in New York the shop assistants just ask everyone.

A bit further along from the gathering of unlikely super heroes was a group of three men. Polish I think and standing looking out to sea with beer cans in their hands as the sun turned the sky a brilliant burning orange. They raised their drinks in amiable greeting as Kaos and I walked by, the dog more intent on sniffing out foxes from along the banks of the fresh water culvert that runs parallel to the shore than in returning their salute. I smiled and nodded my hello as we headed towards the docks and into the sunset.

By the time we retraced our steps, the three men had gone and the group of Saturday night super heroes were swapping wigs with each other. Someone had lit a bonfire from driftwood on the beach and was standing willing it into flickering life as the last of the light drained out of the sky. A couple of teenagers in hoodies and trainers turned tricks on the floodlit skateboard ramp as we walked across the park to our little house. Kaos picked up an empty oyster shell in his mouth and carried it home, leaving it outside as the front door closed behind us with a click.