Body boarding at Newquay

This June I went surfing at Newquay with Anne and Tessa - there had been a time when even the thought of donning a wet suit would have filled me with horror - but those days are gone - Jean, who's a member of my bowel cancer support group, says try anything - and - don't let anyone tell you that you can't do anything -

When we arrived at Fistral Beach, I could see parallel lines of surf sweeping in from the sea - lithe surfers rode the waves, or tumbled into the foam - I could hear the noise of the surf - flags on the beach were whipped back by the wind - spray flew through the air - on the other side of the bay stood the Headland Hotel, an immense hull of Edwardian gothic -

We hired wet suits at once - attached the body boards to our ankles - raced down into the waves, turning sideways as the glittering wave crests struck against our chests - whooping and laughing as the icy sea stung our faces -

We threw ourselves down upon our boards - the trick was to push the front of your board slightly downwards into the foam - you were driven forward by the wave - falling off, gasping, upon the sand -

I lost all sense of time - I felt as though I was a daft boy again - hurled about by the sea - astonished by the noise and height of the waves - thrown upon the sand - my hands and feet quite numb - my white hair plastered to my head -

We saw the circles of would be surfers, told how to balance on their boards - it looked so easy on the firm, level, sand - once in the tumultuous sea, however, it was a different matter - I remembered my surf teacher, a calm blonde girl, watching me fall off my surf board, over and over again -

We sipped hot tea upon the sand - next to us, two women huddled behind their windbreak - I thought how wonderful it was to be here, to be well again, to sip this marvellous scalding tea -