Bete Noir

B?te Noir

It was a stupid thing to do, I realise that. Now. The ball, bobbing a
few
metres from the beach was first just a ball (my children's ball,
orange
mainly, with the logo of their favourite movie in bold relief), then
in
quick succession it became a prize, a challenge, now a b?te noir as
I
swim in its wake. Every now and then I stop to check my progress,
feeling foolish but determined nonetheless. I am not about to be
beaten by a ball. But of course, something stronger plays a part
in these situations and I don't mean the offshore breeze that
nudges it continually from my grasp. Last time I looked I
was surprised at how far we'd travelled from the beach,
the ball and I. The ball, stupid orange ball. I could
grow to hate that logo. I should turn turtle,
swim ashore and tiredly, pathetically,
acknowledge defeat, but the gap
between us has suddenly
narrowed, One final
kick and I can
just reach it.
One
f..