There was an absolutely amazing sunset over the sea at Worthing this afternoon. Stunningly beautiful it was, I could have watched it for hours.
But that’s the things about sunsets, isn’t it? You can’t watch them for hours. Blink and you will miss them. Or, in our case, call in at Tescos to shop for tomorrow’s lunch (we have long-time friends coming) and by the time you
emerge, blinking as you do, that beautiful orange-streaked sky has turned into a dismal swathe of greyness. This is why it is essential to Seize the Moment.
still remember one holiday in Cyprus with my sister and brother-in-law when we had planned, with military precision, our drive to a particularly scenic spot to watch the sun go down over Aphrodite’s birth-place. The classicists among you will know that
there are any number of places where Aphrodite is supposed to have been born. I’m not saying, categorically, that this was THE place – but it was one of them and that was good enough for the four of us. Except that somehow or other we had misjudged
our timing and, despite Mr B putting his foot down (on the accelerator pedal, that is) and burning the tarmac, we arrived just as the pesky sun slipped below the horizon. Mr B, who prizes himself on arriving ridiculously early for anything and everything,
Now we are not the types to be put off by small issues such as timing. We laughed at our misfortune (OK, it was very weak laughter) and we vowed
to try again the following day. You will be pleased to learn that next day we arrived in plenty of time. It was a very beautiful sunset and, should Aphrodite have actually been born in that place, I hope she was born at sunset so that her mother had
something to think about / gaze upon while in the throes of labour. History, I must tell you, does not confirm or deny this.
What really made our day was the fact
that just as the sun, once again, slipped below the horizon, a whole coach-load of tourists turned up, with hampers full of bottle of chilled champagne, just too late to catch the Main Event. I am ashamed to say that we chortled at their misfortune, which
was unkind of us in the extreme. Especially as they probably wouldn’t be able to return the following day as we had done. I think it was the sight of them all clutching their empty champagne glasses as they realised there was nothing left in the sky
to toast. That’s the other thing about sunsets – they won’t wait for you.
Last year we watched the sun go down over Mount Teide in Tenerife and
we were the ones armed with champagne and warm blankets. It should have been very romantic but Mr B was busy taking photographs of other couples enjoying their Special Moment. He’s generous like that. Which (I keep telling myself) is a virtue to
be prized far above fleeting romantics.
It has to be said, though, that while we all hurry to see the sunsets on holiday, we often forget just how spectacular
the sunsets can be, here in Britain – even on a chilly day like today. Isn’t that always the way?
PS Mr B thinks I didn’t wax sufficiently lyrical
about Les Miserables in yesterday’s Daily Blog. He says my long-suffering readers will have been looking forward to a proper review of the film, rather than me wittering on about the air conditioning in the Millennium Theatre and whether or not
the lady in the seat next to mine was eating a ham and tomato sandwich. This is as may be (as Mrs Stevens who lived over the road from us when I was a littl’un was fond of saying) but, like the sunset, blink and they're gone. And who
else is going to let you know about these important matters if I don’t?
Please don’t feel you have to answer that...