Venerdi 8 luglio 2011 – I don’t feel like work, the iPod is having a summer mood today, Steps are playing their cover of the Diana Ross top ten hit, Chain Reaction. I’m feeling bouncy and singing along as I eat my toast and jam. Now there’s a thing; back in the UK I never ate jam, but there was a jar (cherry) in the fridge and I’ve been eating it ever since.
I decide to spend the day at the coast, so I fill up with petrol and head off northwards. First stop is San Vito Chietino, the little beach here is crammed with people under umbrellas, the sound of enjoyment bounces on the air, and laughter washes in with the waves. A voice is raised at a small boy who bounces his beach ball into another family’s space.
I drive further up the coast, bouncing along with every dip and rise in the coast road. My bottle of water once chilled is now warm and devoid of any fizz, however I’m parched. I pull over at another beach, I want to check out. Now apparently this is supposed be a popular place with gay men. For popular read, spot where they can get a quick shag. I stroll along the beach, it’s empty, apart from one man sunbathing and a couple in their latter years canoodling in the sea. I arrive at the area supposedly frequented by gay men and spot the signs of outdoor activity. tracks into the wooded area are apparent, and occasionally there’s a discarded condom wrapper on the ground.
I’m being followed by a man, he looks nervous and obviously married, he keeps stopping and looking over to see if I’m looking at him, I’m not. It’s too hot for any of that outdoors nonsense. I pass through a dense piece of undergrowth and discover a ramshackle set of buildings, now covered in graffiti and in serious disrepair. They are the remains of what was once a holiday park, in an area beside what was the reception building lie fridges and freezers, rusting and lifeless, they put me in mind of the imaginary elephant’s graveyard.
I walk back, now the man is chatting to a young lad about 20, he lowers his gaze as I walk passed, guilty maybe or embarrassed I don’t know nor care. I drive into Pescara to buy some more cans of anchovy stuffed olives, then continue my bouncing along until I get home.