“You need a break,” they told me after Bill got himself mangled in the machine at work. “You’re working too hard,” they said. “Take some time off,” they said. “Go to
Fun. That’s a laugh. Call this fun. I’d have had more fun back on the shop floor building car engines and laughing and joking with the lads. It’s hot on the shop floor too, but at least you’re not crammed together like sardines. At least you can move when you want, go and get a drink when you want, and not have to queue for the toilets.
I told the missus we should have gone to
But no. Ethel knew best, didn’t she? Everyone she knows has been to
We could have had some peace and quiet in
Ethel had made up her mind though, so we came to
Only it’s not fun. No fun at all. It’s too hot for one thing, and there’s too many people about for another. Wherever you go you can’t move, you’re either in someone’s face or someone’s in your face all the time. And you can’t even go to sleep in the sun there’s so much noise.
I should never have let Ethel talk me into it.
And what with all this heat, and being squashed up with all these people I don’t even know, it’s driving me crazy. Crazy like that red-hot day in the factory when Bill died.
It’s driving me fucking crazy, I tell you.
I don’t know whether I can survive another five days of this.
Not without killing someone.
Copyright Stuart Hughes 1996.
Beach Rage has been previously published in Flickers ‘n’ Frames #26 1996, in Ocean Eyes 1997, the Derby Telegraph 2011, on the TTA Press Advent Calendar 2010, and on This is Derbyshire 2011.