What a mixture! Some Lunch Club members, the odd pair of female lips bent with cheeky nostalgia, a Classic car or two and a row of green beach huts full of Viagra free memory.
I had been taken back to a place I had once known intimately, a place of youth, pretty girls and endless nights of hopeful young love and brash Valentine’s Day cards.
The bright red Gilbern sports car, with its squeaky suspension and lingering aroma of Welsh car making greatness (and failure), had brought four of us to Langland Bay for a once and for all blast of times gone by – and hadn’t they just!
Echoes of ‘Amanda’s’ laughter at what could have been, reminded us of slippery kisses and iron clad bra-straps that just wouldn’t let go, even when the time was right. Barbecue fires and browned up flagons of Strongbow still burned and glistened, in memories untainted by ‘apps’, mobile emotion and computerised calamity.
The girls had been real then, their kisses neat and tidy…… and Langland Bay?
Well it was still there, but it just wasn’t the same.