Corinella is one of those places I visited years ago and had been smeared over in my mind to merge with the Lang Lang waterfront. This was not a good thing. Luckily, my memory was utterly skewed in the wrong direction.
We drove down to visit our longtime collaborators, Mr & Mrs & Master H – for they had hired a house for a week. Mostly for Mr H to throw his line into the water, repetitively. He didn’t do too badly – improving upon the eel he caught with sausage-as-bait in Sydney a few weeks back. He even caught a clawless crab, obviously employing some kind of underwater fishing ballet of which I am unaware.
We drove there. I expected hot, flat and featureless. I got hot, undulating and quirky. The house was properly o-l-d, in a comforting way. With sunflowers around the door and hydrangeas looking slightly limp in the sunshine.
Cups of tea, an exchange of presents…more tea…lunch…and then a walk to the seaside. The tide was a fair way out. The sand was very fine and glittery with some kind of black silt through it. The Smalls and I explored. M was mule-boy and brought down beach tent and towels.
We swam and splashed and finally, slightly bedraggled, walked slowly back to the house. The sun remained *hot* and we were almost dry again by the time we got there. A hose down and showers all round. Mrs H proved her worth by detangling the mat that was Small DB’s hair. We only had to cut two bits out.
A BBQ finished off an unexpectedly lovely day…