Lambeth Walk

Now, I have no idea what "The Lambeth Walk" is but I was brung up knowing where and what "Lambeth Walk" was. It stretches from the end of the prom to the start of The Warren. Obviously those who know what's what will know what I'm on about, for the rest it is a walk which in normal circumstances is just pleasant.

At times of high water and wind it is a place to dare and be dared. The waves crash against it and wash over it. The task was to wait till the last minute and run for it. If you got it just right you'd look over your shoulder at a wall of water rising above your head and the last step you took to evade getting nearly drowned would see the water washing at you heels.  You remained mostly dry. The trick to it was to ensure that there was someone behind you who did not. That was the fun of it....

Unfortunately in northern latitudes the wet suit would never dry by natural means so if you got wet you went home wet and took what came. You probably went to grandparents first.

Of my generation in that place very few will have escaped being nearly murdered for getting a wet suit. I don't ever remember being told it was dangerous, stupid or that we shouldn't go down Lambeth Walk but I do remember being told not to come home drowned.

We went to Marsaskala today and I was reminded of those days. There was quite a surge running in the harbour. In fact I reckon it was a bit of Mediterranean ground sea. Looked like it, anyway.

No where near as fierce but similar in essence. This is the Mediterranean, though, so no tide and it just keeps going all day long the same. So you watch, see the pattern and wander along. One of us did, one of us didn't.

A man stood beside me as I took this having watched me casually amble along not perhaps aware of the years of training I has amassed meant that I had sussed out where to go if the water moved faster than I'd noted, which it didn't. He took a similar photo and began walking as soon as the water had all drained away. Wrong. He got almost to the square pillar when he got a wet suit. I could have offered advice but I'd already moved on as this is only about half way to the seat where t'other was waitng having elected to take a far more circuitous route.

However, my hero of the day was this postman. Just a few metres from where the other photo was taken. He came hammering along the seafront and hit the front brake on the last dry bit, simultaneously leaning, turning and hitting the rear brake. Now surrounded by the water he executed a perfect spin turn with both feet firmly on the foot pegs all the time, spray flying, coolly rode a couple of metres and parked the bike as you see it. Got off with a flourish and set about his job.

Afterwards he looked, grinned and made off with as much noise as such a laden bike can manage..

One seriously impressed observer of one seriously chilled and dry postman.  Bravo.

All in all a most excellent day and lunch at The Coxswain's Cabin, run by a lady from Plymouth.