Erin and I went up to Hampton Beach today. Beth had grown up work to do. I dunno why Hampton Beach, a vacation spot on NH’s minimal coast, except that it’s close enough. It’s a small scale New Jersey boardwalk.
We just wanted to greet the ocean, it is one of the largest oceans in the world (the Atlantic). The day, the day was entirely cloudless. The machinations of commerce were at about half speed this early but the place was quite lively. Families spread out across the wide embrace of sand.
We just hung out, talking, absorbing. There were a lot of horses ridden on the beach, I mean 15-20, with children rushing eagerly towards them. A few people even entered the water.
It was lunchtime but I had no interest in the greasy options in the busy beach area. I’m not above greasy food but the goal of exciting crap increasingly becomes anathema to me. I don’t want to over invest in crappy pizza.
Near the beach was the water slide of the gods. It is an adrenalin machine. My aim is to lower my adrenalin output, so I shall avoid such pranks, but enjoy what you enjoy.
A kite on the beach served me well. I couldn’t see who commanded it. The wind brought it towards us, rather than lifted high. It fluttered with bird-like movements and held my attention.
We drove around a bit in this maelstrom of distraction, then sought food elsewhere. Trying to elude the temporary bliss of grease.
Outside the gross plea of the shoreline grab, we peeked at a brunchy place that we have been to before but it looked full. Erin pulled into a parking lot to consult the god Google. A full 200 feet away was a well-reviewed establishment. Google’s genius led shortly down the road then turn back to arrive at where we were. A place called Victoria’s Kitchen. A caterer but open to dine in.
The modest appearance from the outside was belied by the friendly space within. A large selection of items for breakfast and lunch. Erin and I both went for Angus bacon and blue cheese burgers. They were cooked perfectly, ensconced on home made English muffins, with home made potato chips (food of the gods).
Northbound we listened to Silly Wizard, traditional sad Scottish. Homeward, The Darkness, sort of AC/DC with an exotic falsetto. I brought home beach stones for Beth, those are pretty real.
“It’s the same old man sitting by the mill
Mill turns around of its own free will.”