Chapter Three, in which I decide to get home in time for tea ... one day.
"...I sat on the terrace of a cafe' overlooking the marina, holidaymakers, stragglers from the beech, wandered past in search of adventure, or just getting away from the sand and the town centre which reminds them so much of home. Being intimidated by on one hand the estate agents whose window was crowded with marina dwellings at extortionate prices, and on the other hand by the yacht brokerage whose window was crowded with expensive yachts. I overheard comments such as, "It's like Monte Carlo!" (in a Welsh accent)..." Read more
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