Oh yeah, I nearly forgot. So I totally got chased up and down the beach by polices without realising it the other night.
What it was, I was going for a run along the illegal beach out the front of my house, which has been closed for months cos they’ve dumped tons of new sand on it and bulldozers push that sand around a bit in the daytime. Nothing’s going on at nighttime, so I don’t see any problem in jumping the fence and running along the shore through the surf with my headphones on, listening to my new mixes or an episode of Red Ice. The sun’s dying in a smouldering sky full of fluffy pink embers, the ocean rolls out into a neon infinity crowned with windmills like some dystopian sixties paperback cover. Basically, its super inspirational and good exercise.
So anyway, I run a mile or two up one way, where a security guard tells me how I shouldn’t be on the beach and I need to go walk back along the road, and I tell him I do this every night and I live just over yonder and anyway I haven’t got any shoes on so walking on the road would be lame. So he’s like, oh alright then, you’re not doing any harm are yer, and I’m like cheers buddy, and he’s like, see ya tommorrer, and I run back down the other way and am about to climb back over the fence when I’m struck with a great idea for a chorus for this bit of music I wrote earlier that I’ve had on loop in my headphones the whole time. So I wade out into the ocean, until the sea’s up to my knees, with this thing in my headphones, and the sun’s died, and the ocean is ink, a vast wet Lovecraftian bruise, and the sky’s the colour they used for Batman’s cloak in eighties DC comics, bleeding into the ocean, and this chorus is sounding amazing, and I’m listening to it, and singing it, and kind of letting it build itself and recording it into evernote, and the tide’s coming in an its up to my waist now, and getting higher, and I’m spinning around singing this thing over and letting it build, and then its done, it has made itself know, and I wade back to shore.
I’ve got all my energy back now, so I think, fuck it, I’m gonna run up and down the beach again. So I pivot on my heel and sprint off through the surf. Out the corner of my eye I can see some shadowy figures up on the promenade pointing at me, but I’ve got my headphones on and I’m used to people pointing at me, so I ignore them and sprint off up the beach.
On my way back down again, I notice these weird shadowy things in front of me, and initially I think they’re driftwood or something, but they’re moving, and they’ve got lights on them, and now I can see they’re definitely moving directly towards me.
I think, of great, some local meatheads are gonna try it now, amazing. I rehearse some boxing moves in my head, but worry that since I haven’t boxed for a while I might be getting it wrong. Maybe they’re just interested, I decide, maybe they just wanna hang out with an interesting motherfucker like myself. So I slow my running down and let them meet me, all like, alright lads, what’s cracking?
And then I see they’re not just lads, some of them are polices, and I’m like, OH SHIT, like I was a kid again and I’d done something wrong. Then I remembered I haven’t done anything wrong, and felt elated, and then I remembered that doesn’t always matter with polices, and felt mildly panicked.
OK lad what you on? asks one of the polices, which I think is a weird question, and another one says, what’re you up to then? And I’m like, oh hi dudes, I’m having a nice run along the beach thanks. And they’re like, we chased you all the way up the beach but we lost you. Fuck, you bolted off quick. We followed your footprints in the sand until they disappeared like fucking Houdini. How’d you do that?
I didn’t know how I did that.
We were shouting, they said, didn’t you hear? I pointed to the giant, battered headphones I still had on.
What were you doing in the sea? asked one. You were out there for ages. It was weird. Someone thought you were trying to kill yourself or something. I laughed, Ah ha ha! I was writing a song, I said. Its super inspirational out there you know. They looked unimpressed. You gorra do what you gorra do, shrugged one. The civilian spat on the sand. You must have done some funny acid, he said, glaring. The tall one got out a notebook and peered into my eyeballs suspiciously, like Larry David. I Larry Davided back. We stayed that way for a long, leaden moment, as the waves crashed against the shore, and a car drove past. Eventually he straightened up, and nodded. OK, he said. OK.
They insisted on walking me off the beach, back over the fence, where a pair of police cars waited on the roadside, lights flashing giddily, illuminating a gang more policemen, along with some interested locals. They were all ever so interested. I guess there isn’t much going on at midnight on a Tuesday in Rhos On Sea.
They interrogated me some more, all the questions, what’s your name, where do you live, how long have you lived here, where did you used to live, why did you come here, who do you live with, do they know you’re out, what were you doing again, are you known to us? The tall one scribbled notes in his notepad, so tall he was, his funny ole pointy polices pope hat poking a hole in a cloud. OK, he said. OK. Then they all nodded at each other, mumbling things like, better safe than sorry, and gorra be careful, and see you friday Kev, then disappeared into the night in a convoy of flashing lights.
The ocean below thrashed foaming lips against rocks and sand, and the ocean above dripped stars.
Well, I thought, if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
I put my song back on, and walked home.