SALTWATER HEALS EVERYTHING

I'm never getting out of the waves

I spent last weekend on a hen do in Kerry, in the southwest of Ireland.
Like most hen do’s, it was the epitome of health and wellness. We’d greet the day with sun salutations and meditative breathing (genuienly). We were equally smug about lunch, serving bountiful bowls of every shade of green followed by bottomless pitchers of spicy margs as early as the afternoon would allow, until the evening descended into dancing on chairs and pinning the banana on the hunk.

I’d like to note the hunk in question was 400cm tall and drawn in sharpie on A3 paper, as opposed to some poor bloke we’d hired for an evening of entertainment.

Somewhere between a deep stretch downward dog and the lime juice being squeezed into the blender, we would head to the beach.
The shoreline unfurled like silken ribbon, the sky above mirroring the blues and greys of the Atlantic. Small treasures half-hidden in the wet sand, too many to count. Weathered pebbles etched with the secrets of ancient currents, fragmented scallop shells turning their iridescent bellies into beds for frosted sea glass.

We somewhat reluctantly removed shoes and socks followed (even more reluctantly) by soft cotton jumpers - the last goosebump preventative - and headed to the water’s edge.
The dunes rose behind us like soft rolling waves of golden sand and the wind whispered patterns into them with every breath.