Pearly Beach - way back

Standing on the crisp remnants of my lawn, the sandy soil now covering more area than the yellowing grass, and listening to the soughing of the wind through the branches of the trees, I am transported in my memory to the days when we camped on our plot at Pearly Beach, a seaside village along the coast beyond Gansbaai. The climate is very predictable at this time of year, when we cast civilisation off in favour of campfires, gaslight and an outdoor shower. Early morning would be windless, suitable for walking along the miles of pristine beaches with rocky outcrops and blue water bays and perhaps a shallow swim in the warmish water. Not deep - this is the home of the great white shark and the centre of a cage diving industry. Treacherous reefs line the coast, the resting place of many a ship that foundered on their hidden spikes, but I didn't consider this a barrier to sharks and never took to the water after Jaws.
The early afternoon would bring a breeze off the sea, rustling the leaves of the trees over the campsite and bringing relief from the baking heat that keeps the natural flora of the region both low lying and drought resistant. Weavers' nests would sway overhead, where females would inspect and reject over and over until the males' nest-building skills were honed to perfection and a home would be settled on. This was a time for sleeping under a tree after a good lunch.
Around 5pm the wind dropped and a long warm evening in front of the campfire ended off a long and lazy day. We camped on a plot in between houses and so it was very quiet - not like the campsite near the beach where it was the last outpost of the republic and the brandy and coke brigade.
In the mornings, the embers would be revived and a copper coil thrown in. This was attached to a hose leading in and a hose leading out and by running the tap - the fireplace was between the tap and the outdoor shower - everyone could enjoy hot water through simple regulation of the strength of the flow. Very handy contraption put up by He Who Can Fix Anything.
Circumstances forced us to sell the plot, but I have hardly given it a thought since then, so it must mean that it had served its purpose in my life. But good times all the same.