Tuesday, November 7

For years we could walk to Lighthouse Beach using a small, unmaintained path that skirted a small lake (or disused quarry). People washed themselves, their clothes, and sometimes their motorbikes in it.

Last year gangs of men renovated it using tiles and cement. Since then it has become a path for cyclists, barrows, motorbikes, and anything else that will fit on it including, now and then, alert pedestrians.

Today I walk back from the beach during a lull in the rain to find three cows walking along the path. A man leads the first cow on a rope, while the other two wander along behind it. Or don’t.

A motorcyclist waits patiently behind them. He will continue to wait, as will I, because the third cow will decide to explore the gate and the side of the path.

Eventually the man will come to get it. He will talk to it, roll his eyes at me, and walk back. The cow will follow him.