It Summer Breeze makes me feel fine. Oh, but why?

The ocean fascinates me. The calming sound of water lapping at the shore,
the lullaby of the waves crashing onto the beach and surrounds is surreal,
hypnotic, same may even dare say orgasmic.
Even when we are not there we lie in bed at night listening to recordings
of the ocean to enhance our feeling of wellbeing and to help us get to
sleep.
Every day we read more and more stories about the shift of the population
to the coast and yes, we all agree it is on.
Take a look at the increases in house prices near the coast from the
eastern seaboard all the way to Western Australia, the price jumps are like
huge dollops of ice cream hastily lavished onto the dessert plate after we
have eaten all our vegetables when we were young.
Maybe this is the reason why we are all feeling the pull to the ocean, like
a giant electromagnet that keeps on having the current turned up.

Today in the United States 50% of the population live near the coast. In
the year 2050 this figure will be closer to 75%.

Boxing Day 2001, I stand on the shore at Fairlight overlooking Sydney
Harbour.
Every few blinks, or so it seems heralds the appearance through the haze of
the next inbound Manly Ferry from Circular Quay hauling its human cargo
effortlessly closer to the anticipated utopian bliss of the ocean waves.
The craft then disgorges it's sunburn hungry occupants who hurriedly
thunder their way towards the corso, only to be held up by the wait for the
green light that flashes like a neon sign the instruction to walk, or
don't.
As the crush gathers momentum people continually jockey for position, as if
arriving at the sand a few seconds earlier will enhance their position and
reputation.

Wave after wave of brightly coloured and coconut scented people arrive at
the sand.
They scour diligently for a patch of sand to claim for the day. As if
ordered by the starters gun the first ones scamper down the sand, only to
be temorarly halted by the searing heat of the sand which screams for a
towel to be thrown down to jump on for a momentary lull prior to the next
mad dash.
Once at the position, umbrellas are triumphantly hoisted skyward in scenes
reminiscent of the raising of the American flag on taken territory towards
the end of World War 2.
Sun cream is then applied to squirming children who seem intent on evading
the grasp of mothers whose memory of skin cancer of some distant relative
remains etched into their minds
By this time the sea breeze has usually come in, blowing with it the hordes
of misery carrying blue bottles you just know live for an afternoon at the
beach.

The Freudian theorists are convinced that our love of the beach and the
coast is because of repressed memories of our first sexual experiences that
usually took place on or near the sand or in the car parks adjacent. They
feel that now that now there are so many baby boomers around we want to be
reinserted back to our previous feelings of harmony, content and wellbeing.

I personally prefer the theory that where the ocean meets the sand is the
place on earth where there is the most oxygen. This explains a great deal
about why our relentless walks along the shoreline give us so much
pleasure.

The return of the Longboard is simply put; inevitable. The sound of the
salt water hissing past your face as you wear that continually lasting
smile will forever remain; eternally yours.

In the Seventies The Eagles penned a song called "The Last Resort", judging
by the current happenings it seems that they were well ahead of their time.

"Put up a bunch of ugly boxes and Jesus people bought em".

"You call some place paradise you kiss it goodbye".

Simon Bond.