S Sense

The salty air of beautiful Broadwater beach. Aaah.

Im at peace in this wild beautiful place. Occasionally I bend down (Im no Laurie Axtens but I can bend) and collect shells.

Soldier crabs scuttle through their crab colonies diving down holes as I approach. I avoid walking through these colonies. I dont want to crush them.

A sea eagle hovers above me looking to see if I might flush some tasty tidbit from among the shells, crab colonies, driftwood, bits of broken plastic, disposable cigarette lighters, empty Tooheys New stubbies, empty plastic water bottles, a dead bird with fishing line around its legs and a toothbrush, which make up the latest tidal gurgitation.

Inspired by my shells, I make a tower of sand, place the seashells on it in a series of peace signs and then plant the toothbrush on top like a flag mast. Then I carefully lay rubbish, colour co-ordinated, around that. (I havent got a lot on today.)

Detouring around a soldier crab colony I walk across the erotically-shaped, sea-sculptured, soft chocolate rocks which are so much a feature of the beach around here. (Yes. I find the chocolate rocks of Broadwater erotic. The sea carves sensuous shapes. But dont worry. I have a girlfriend. Again.)

Its just a perfect day, as Lou Reed might say. And Im not even drunk. (A vodka and orange juice for brekkie doesnt count.)

Then behind me I hear a rumble. Its a 4WD. On the friggin beach. This refugee from a deceitful ad campaign mounts the soft chocolate rock, crushing a womans hips, before flopping once again onto the sand. I yell in horror.

As it drives past me roaring across my soldier crab colony, the driver waves his Tooheys New at me and laughs. Like hes never seen a man in floral boxers and cowboy hat grieving for a crushed sexy rock and standing next to, well, a sand phallus with a tootbrush poking out the top.

As it bounces down the beach over rock, crab, pippie, shell, bird nest, kid and sleeping sunbather, I race to where the monster has Iraqed the crab colony. Two tyre tracks have compressed the sand at least four inches. In this colony alone I estimate that at least a hundred crab homes were destroyed. Now Im angry. Okay mister, they may be called soldier crabs but theyre civilians!

I frantically start to dig into a tyre track. There may be crabs trapped below ground. I wish Eddie McGuire was here. I want to find a hero. After minutes of digging I do find a crab.

Unfortunately, its dead. That means its not a hero. So I chuck it away. (The sea eagle turns an eye to it.)

I continue to dig. After a minute and three more dead victims, I give up. I dont like the beach anymore. The crushed rocks dont look attractive. Dead crabs make me depressed. Im suddenly thirsty and only have water with me. And I can see more 4WDs coming. Bye bye beach.

Mob's got ScoMo all worked out

Mob's got ScoMo all worked out

Have ScoMo's scare tactics gone to far?

Strength in diversity

Strength in diversity

Multicultural women's group offers support to newcomers to region

'Together we have achieved a lot'

'Together we have achieved a lot'

Thank you to everyone