Raving

M says, 'I need some peace and quiet; d'you want to go somewhere?'
I say, 'Ok,' and she tells me she'll pick me up in half an hour, then hangs up. I haven't got long, and I don't know where I'm going, so I get my rucksack, sling in some underwear, socks an extra T shirt, sweatshirt and some trackie bottoms, sunblock - a book, a big bottle of water, a portion of dog food, and my sleeping bag to sit on. Then I wait.

M turns up an hour late and says, 'Let's go to Sainsburys to get some food n stuff.' She fancies red wine, bread, and some unusual cheeses because she's sick of being vegan. It's all D's fault - she only ever wanted to be vegetarian and he always has to go that one step further, and she's sick of the lying, cheating, selfish, power-freak, so now she's having cheese and he can't stop her. 'Men are total pigs', she comments offhandedly, and I say, 'Pigs, yes, totally.' I'm thinking this might be generalising, slightly, but it seems to calm her down. 'What about your N?' she demands, and I say, 'Oh yes, an absolute stinker!' That's when I think, oh no, I haven't called to let him know I'm going out. Never mind, I'll do it when I get there - wherever 'there' is.

We buy - a variety of cheeses, bread, kitchen roll, toilet paper, two bottles of wine, various chopped up salads in transparent plastic pots, chocolate, cake, water, biscuits, a family pack of crisps, crackers and ibuprofen, and head out for the car. Her dog sits on the back seat - whining, and mine sits in front of my legs in the front footwell, wondering, just like me, where are we going?

I say, 'So, M, where are we going?' She says, 'I have no idea.' But as we are headed in the direction of the coast, I'm guessing we will end up at the coast. And we do. About two hours later. 

We start trying to get the shopping stuffed into our rucksacks. There's not much room in mine, but M hasn't packed for as many eventualities as me, so she bungs as much into hers as she can and we somehow manage to lug with us, the food, my sleeping bag, a towel, the wine, our books and a quite heavy light-weight fishing shelter. The dogs look bemused, but run on ahead, in search of disgusting things to sniff - like dead eels and unusual poo, whilst me and M stagger under the weight of provisions, wheezing in the heat of the sun.

We make our way along the grassy track and eventually through the sand dunes to the vast sandy beach where we collapse in a heap, suddenly feeling over dressed in shorts and vests - on a naturist beach. Oh well...

The first thing to do is to put up the fishing shelter - (borrowed) which turns out to be a two man tent. M is disappointed because she thought we could sit in it for shade, or shelter from the rain, but it's a beautiful warm August day, and I say, 'Oh well, if it's a tent, maybe we should just stay the night, then we can have tomorrow here, as well.' M looks out across the expanse of golden sand to the glistening sea. There's hardly anyone about and it is so peaceful, just as she wanted, so after carefully considering my suggestion for about five seconds, she agrees. I take out a couple fold-up fabric dog water bowls and give the dogs a drink and before we have even unpacked the rest of our stuff, I head off for a swim. The water isn't cold and the waves carry me weightless. I feel I could just lay back, arms stretched out like a starfish and float away while my dog watches on at the water's edge. 

When I emerge from the water, I can feel the sun is already starting to dry me. M is sitting on the sand, eyes closed and face turned up like a flower absorbing the sun. I find my towel and lay out my sleeping bag for us sit on. We eat smelly cheese in torn off bread, and M, who is never fully equipped for any occasion, except for a flask of coffee, has come equipped with two china cups and a flask of delicious coffee. And we each have a chunk of cake.

I take out my mobile phone to let N know where I am, but there's no signal. M says there's nothing we can do about it now, so stop worrying. 

I start worrying. I'm guessing he will wonder what's happened to me, might start thinking I've been abducted by aliens, robbed and dragged off - and what about the dog? He might call the police, thinking I've been murdered, and he'll probably wonder why there's no dinner. Divorce me. That's when we open one of the bottles of wine.

As evening approaches, the nudists begin to put on pants and the beach starts to clear. We notice that a group of about 20 non-nudists, a few feet to our right, have a large shelter and do not seem to be making moves to leave. M says, 'Oh well, if they are staying, at least we won't be totally alone. They seem peaceful enough.' They start to barbecue things on disposable trays while M and I take the dogs for a long walk along the waters edge and don't mention home. We especially don't mention 'men', because they are all 'total pigs', and we both admire the start of a glorious sunset. 

A little later, we eat more food and drink more wine and all is fine in the world. It really is the most stunning sunset. The group to our right have some very large speakers, and we wonder about them. As one of the group walks by, I say, 'We were wondering about your very large speakers ... ' and he tells us they will be playing music in a little while. 

So then they start to play music and we feel a bit disappointed because it isn't what we had come here for. We had envisaged solitude and total quiet and now it's looking less likely that we'll have our wish.

Around 11.00pm, we suddenly remember that we have never been to a rave before. It's real head banging stuff - that amp is powerful and the base, booming. Yes, all in all, it isn't the peaceful night we had in mind. But they seem a nice bunch, and they ask us to join them. We thank them, but decline and eventually take to our tent where there is no relief from the painfully loud brain juddering beat, and where we can no longer benefit from trying to breathe in whatever they might be smoking.

I spread the towel and some clothes on the floor of the tent. The ground is becoming icy cold and so are we. We put the opened up sleeping bag over us and try to drift off, but M says she is too boney to lie on the ground and drags her half of the sleeping bag under her to lie on, which leaves me without enough to cover me. I'm beginning to feel cross about the deafening din and equally cross with M, who has fallen peacefully and selfishly asleep on the majority of the sleeping bag.

By morning light, I am still awake, cold and almost weepy with fatigue. But as the sun rises I get out of the tent and do some yoga stretches. The dawn is truly beautiful over the sea and as I look out, a man and a woman walk to near the edge of the water, about 20 feet apart and perform the most beautiful sun salutation, back-lit by an amazing sun in the deepest pink and red sky I've ever seen. Nothing showy about these two. They just unselfconsciously own their space and do their thing. I join them in my space in front of the dunes looking out to sea. This is peace.

Before heading back I have another swim, then dry in the sun as I walk with my dog along the beach. After a snooze on the now warm sand I feel wide awake and glad for the unusual experience of having been at a rave on a beach with, and not with, the most laid-back bunch of strangers I've never fully been introduced to.

When we get home, D hasn't noticed that M hasn't been there for two days and a night, or that she has returned, whilst N is understandably mad as hell and doesn't speak to me for a week over my selfishness in leaving him in the dark as to my unexpected absence, and without dinner. But there's no mention of divorce.