What I Wouldn’t Do for a Holocaust Cloak

What a difficult month it’s been. A horror.

Work, exams, assignments, litigation, catastrophic flooding to my house, unrequited love …..and some news yesterday made me sick to my stomach.

I worked at the gym until 12.30 and then came home, had lunch with my kids, mowed the lawn, crying like a baby the whole time. A lawnmower will drown that stuff out.

I unwillingly live way out in the smug conservative desolation of the western suburbs of Chicago, and havent’ had time to make the trek to my beloved Promontory Point since March.

I went.

My dear friend Evmo was not b-s’ing when he said an immersion was in order. I sent the kids to their babysitter and drove in for a dip. I sped like a demon. Sometimes it’s nice just to take the lid off and let Nigel, my Mini, rip. And hope there are no cops. I was lucky this time 

The Point was alive and throbbing with people out in the beautiful weather (20 degrees cooler than festering Naperville!). When I finally parked and walked out to the Point, here’s what I saw:

promontory point

Sublime.

If you are a born and bred beach baby from Australia, relocated many years ago to a cornfield in the arse end of Illinois, you’ll understand the emotional reaction I experienceevery single time I see this.

I took the temperature. 60. Goddam. Walked around to the north side to see if anyone I knew was there could watch my stuff. No, but this was the view.

promontory point

I needed a wee and it was getting late so I just dumped my bag and got in. No cap, no goggles.

it was like i’d stripped off my clothes and slipped between a pair of cool, smooth sheets…….

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