A beach hut in November isn’t the warmest of places and this evening I lit the calor gas heater for the first time this winter. No more cold nose or even colder fingers; it’s almost impossible to type on the keyboard of my little netbook with frozen fingers. The hut warms quickly and I know I’ll have to brace myself to leave in a couple of hours, so I’ll make the most of the warmth and the pleasant glow of the flame while I update my blog and work on a new short story.
With the door shut firmly against the cold dark evening no-one would know I was here, the almost silent tapping of the keyboard as I type won’t give me away. However I can hear everything; couples passing as they stroll along the promenade, their dog sniffing around the back of the beach huts and a group of teenagers kicking an empty can across the pebbles, cheering as, with a final kick, it lands in the sea.
One more cup of coffee from my Thermos and I’ll get on with that short story. Then back home to the heaps of washing up and ironing that the family is sure to have left for me. On second thoughts, perhaps I’ll stay a little longer tonight.
