There's something to be said about truly appreciating what you've lost. Growing up in Australia, I had the beach at my fingertips. I was a tanned little baby Queenslander, twaddling off to the endless glistening beaches of Queensland's Gold Coast every other weekend and taking it all for granted. When I grew up and moved to Sydney, I lived five blocks from Brighton Beach and with a book, oversized sun glasses and floppy hat in tow, I lazily meandered down to the beach whenever I pleased. And I took it all for granted.
Then I moved to London. After a year in the bleakness of the city that seems to believe that grey really is the new black, I ached for the sandy shores of home more than I ever imagined possible. A quick break came in the form of four weeks work in Sydney in March 2009 and I jumped, salivating like a lunatic at the chance to once again lie on the silky sand of the Australian coast line and not, ahem, the grey rocks of England's beaches.
Beach day came around slowly. I woke up that morning excited with such ferocity that I'm sure I frightened my friend's kitten with my crazy Cheshire Cat smile, but hey, I'm Going To The Beach. My friend's boyfriend was due to chauffeur and we waited, and waited and waited. But alas he didn't come. A phone call. A broken engine (ok so I know engine's don't break but I'm a girl, forgive me!). No. Beach.
No. Beach. Are you kidding me?
I know I'm being a drama queen and oh yes, squillions of others have it far FAR worse than me in this world but when I realized we weren't going to the beach, pieces of my heart cracked and an ever so slight movement detached them from my body and pieces of my heart floated slowly onto the ground. Stomp on them, I don't care.
I realized I NEEDED to go to the beach. And desperate times calls for desperate measures. I grabbed my friend and we walked outside. We walked through the streets and onto the main road. And we CAUGHT A CAB TO THE BEACH. Oh yes, true story. I am the loser who caught a cab to Clovelly Beach.
But I tell you what, it was all worth it. Every single cent.
Clovelly is a hidden treasure amongst Australia's best kept secrets. It's not a Bondi, it's not the Gold Coast. It is not vast and it isn't endless. It is in fact a cove, carved into Australia's east coast with such tenderness that a tiny little beach was formed. It's quiet, it's peaceful, you hear the waves crash and the children laugh, you aren't afraid of being burgled, you can take a nap and relax in peace.
I took a nap that day, basking in all of the glorious sunshine offered to that end of the world. All these people around me, they were taking it for granted but me? No way. I'd never appreciated a moment as much as I did right then, and that moment from March 2009 is forever burned into my memory.
Clovelly is my favourite beach and I'm sharing it here on Qype with you all because I want you to love it right along with me. read more