Once going to the beach was a huge part of my life. I lived close to the sea, and the sea was warm. I surfed, and swam, and just lay around on the sand. These days, I am a couple of hours drive from the beach, and anyway, for most of the year, the sea is too cold to swim in. Not to mention that I don't have the figure I used to!
A few of us used to go to an isolated cove, surrounded by high cliffs and relatively inaccessible and private, and we'd swim and sunbathe nude. I miss those guys: I've lost touch with some, and some have died. I suppose that's life, isn't it, but I can't help feeling regret and sadness.
This pic reminds me of those days. And A E Housman's poem says it perfectly. He was gay, and I think, like so many gay people then and now, melancholy and angry at the straight world and a bit bitter.
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
No comments:
Post a Comment