Floating heads

It happened as she was trying to leave the sea. She slipped, staggered, lost her balance and ended up rolling on her back, helpless. Ventura is of generous proportions and no longer young.

It's always a bit up-and-downy where sea meets beach, you expect ripples and ridges in the shallows, but sometimes the tides, winds and breakers sculpt a deeper step. So when wading in you're faced with a sudden plummet up to your chest in cold water - shriek! - and when you're trying to get out it's like scaling a hill of coffee beans.

Both of these can be entertaining to watch, but Ventura's current plight, struggling on her back like a turtle, was alarming. It doesn't take long for someone to drown even in shallow water, or panic and have a heart attack.

Her companions, still in the sea, were splashing towards her and I ran down the beach to lend a hand. By the time I got there a younger woman had pulled Ventura right way up but was now dealing with an escalation of the crisis as the top half of Ventura's bathing costume had treacherously released its contents.

I studied my toes for a few moments while that was sorted out, then helped the young woman lift Ventura to her feet. We guided her up the beach to the shower, which the ladies use as a changing area. She was trying to smile but clearly shaken. 'It's the sand shifting under your feet,' she explained, 'and the water dragging at your legs. I just, you know...' Of course. But you feel daft when you fall over.

The other ladies returned to the sea and we followed. Now, J and I bathe in order to swim - healthy exercise as well as primitive pleasure. These ladies do not swim. They stand motionless in the water up to their necks, a flotilla of heads among the ripples, doing nothing at all except chatting. Why, you might wonder, would anyone go to all this trouble - changing into costumes, struggling in and out of the sea, showering, getting dressed again - if they're just going to stand and chat? They could do that far more easily over a nice cup of coffee.

Okay, let's ask the lady with the green flower-pot sun hat. Why do you bathe in the sea? 'Well, it's good for you,' she replies, 'sea water is good for the body.' If you press further, 'why?' like a toddler trying to drive everyone nuts, she adds 'Well, of course it's good! Good for your skin, good for your muscles, your joints, your circulation...' What a daft question, everyone knows sea water is good for you.

Maybe she's right. Maybe there's something mysterious in sea water other than plastic bags and nitrate run-off that subtly benefits the human body. But I think it's just that people like water. We're all descended originally from the sea sponge. This informal seaborne tertulia, discussion group, is popular because it's enjoyable to natter and gossip while being gently massaged by the waters we came from.

They give up in winter when the sea gets chillier. Ventura has given up altogether because she's scared of falling over again, which is a shame. But there you are, growing old gracefully often requires meek acceptance of the inevitable. Each year some leave the tertulia and others join, while the earth turns and the moon circles and the tides come and go, and that's how things are.