It was Saturday again and I went with boxing party down to the bottom of the hill for a walk round the headland. Keith decided to have a lie in. It was another beautiful morning in paradise. Tony, Justine and something of a reluctant Mickey, went off to box in the sunshine and I took off for the coastal walk Keith and I did last Saturday.

As before, cricket and golf was already taking place and the dog walking fraternity was well represented. Dog walkers, alone and in twos and threes, came chattering past me. The views to both north and south were tremendous, as I peered over grasses and clifftop to see the rocks below.

I eventually emerged at the point which I think probably gave its name to Long Reef a promontory with look out indicator maps at the top, where people sat to chat or ponder in singular isolation. A man arrived with probably his sons pointing out a whale which he had seen, and which the boys soon tired of trying to see. I think I saw what he saw – in which case I had another whale sighting, but who knows. I certainly could not give a guarantee that U had seen a whale, but it was nice to think that I had added to my whale sighting quota.

I wandered down to the spit of sand and then decided I had tallied too long and that my pugilist chums would be waiting for me. I continued along the path at a bit of a pace, keeping a wary eye on the golfers to my right, an appreciative eye on the coastal scene unfolding on my left and spotting a superior fairy wren on the path in front of me.

I got close to my drop off point when I sighted the car heading my way and then it was all aboard for first the butchers and then a sausage brunch on the balcony. It was then all go to get in a visit to the local second hand dress agency to see if there was anything suitable for party wear before dashing back to make the Wightman Towers contribution to a gathering of neighbours to watch the Aussie Rules football final. Of course we ran out of time and the boys were champing at the bit before we had ‘rested’ our first lot of pastry for our leek and goats cheese tarts….. Fearing that we would not reach my Glyndeborne Picnics recipe’s usual high standard somehow reduced Justine and me to a nearly disastrous attack of the giggles and caused the chaps to give up on us and go on ahead. In the event our tarts tarts, as they were fondly termed, were a great success.

Our ability to understand the game was marginally less successful, but a a close finish had us all on the edge of our seats and it was a really fun afternoon, washed down with a fair share of bubbly.

Back at the ranch it was a ‘GYO’ supper (get your own). The chaps were watching the golf and it was an early night. Long Reef seemed a long time ago!