Thy doth raise thine grim head again once more,’ I say in joyful glee. A single man, somewhat grimmer of vicissitude, approaches me. ‘Who are you?...�� he demands. Somewhat taken aback by his crassness, I look him over. Features plain yet rugged. Masculine. Strong in carriage, but not noble born. A certain inbred set of the eyes I’ve seen before. ‘British?’ I ask, as my had strokes my thin chin. ‘I am not! I’m an American you French Pig! Now, who the hell are you and where is this place?’. 'Huh!' She wasn't impressed! The atmosphere at our evening meal was frosty for the rest of the night.The following morning, we got ourselves ready for our final day at the beach. Julie had slipped into her swimsuit, and thrown her crochet beach tunic on. I was in my shorts and t-shirt. We grabbed our beach bag and headed for the beach.We found a spot on the beach, not too crowded and made ourselves comfortable, Julie sat on her beach towel, trashy holiday book in hand. I couldn't help noticing. More

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