On Wednesday evening, on Chantelle’s return from yet another taxing day at work (she was working on the books), we headed off to Gordon’s Bay main beach, Uncle Barry’s Soft Serve shop to be a little more exact. Chantelle was craving for a chocolate-dipped soft serve sugar cone while I was hungering for some pizza. Nevertheless, I will never say no to ice-cream and that would explain while a little later Chantelle and I strolled onto the beach both clutching a rapidly melting ice cream.
The sunset was particularly delightful that evening, but not nearly as good as my strawberry and vanilla mix soft serve, lovingly smothered in chocolate and craftily tucked into an oh so sweet sugar cone. Amazingly enough, I actually managed to devour my treat without messing for a change, beating Chantelle in the process who had managed to mess on her pants of course!
Satiated, we took a leisurely stroll down the length of the beach which was pretty quiet by now but there were still more than enough joggers and sunset watchers about. However, a sight that did stop us in our tracks were two overweight, middle-aged men that were obviously either quite high or drunk, busy getting undressed in the middle of the beach. Their clothes tossed aside, these two idiots then walked to the water and went for what must have been one hell of a freezing skinny dip.
Obviously this isn’t quite on (particularly because they weren’t two good looking women), but it was Chantelle who took the most offense, so much so that she threatened to go and report it to the cops across the road. Egging her on (always a bad idea), I then quickly had to pick up my pace to catch up with her as she purposefully strode off in the direction of the cop shop. Going inside, she immediately told the first policeman she laid eyes on about the insidious goings on at the beach and with a job well done, strode off back towards the beach to watch the unfolding events.
As it was, the only show we ended up getting was the two naked men eventually getting out of the water and harassing some of the restaurant patrons across the road, but that was it. No police showed up, no action sequences partook and just a generally disappointing form of entertainment in the end. Dejected, we marched off to the car, where I was sidetracked by the brilliant Bikini Beach Book shop, an unusual book ‘den’ which would put Yomiko Readman of Read or Die (R.O.D) fame to shame.
This ‘shop’ is essentially an old house that literally has books lying everywhere. Stacked almost to the roof, this isn’t a shop that organised people will love. Instead you need to come here with plenty of time on your hands and a genuine love of books to get the most of this experience. Honestly, it is a little bit too much for me, but Chantelle actually came up with some goods, picking out a Wilbur Smith and two James Patterson titles which I ended up purchasing for her as a gift.
Eventually breaking free from the shop’s eccentric spell, we darted off towards the mall where I had previously seen some signage up for Twins pizza, a place I thought sure to stock the pan crust pizza I was so longing for. Unfortunately for me though, we discovered on arrival that it was in fact only the signage I had indeed seen – the shop was long since no more.
So Debonairs it was, not my first choice, but it will do, it will do.