The recent lovely weather has driven me from my desk to the beach. To be honest it wasn’t a struggle and no resistance was put up. (See last blog on displacement activities!)

However, I genuinely consider sitting on the beach and getting my fill of vitamin D to be a brilliant research opportunity. It really is! Honestly!

In Brighton when the sun comes out, the pebbly beach is packed with locals and tourists alike and the pressure on space means that people often pitch up close to you and you can quietly observe them and listen in to conversations. Okay, eavesdrop if you will. But it IS research nonetheless.

There have to be some compensations for having your eyes assaulted by the smoky barbeques and crying children.

One little girl was sitting with her mother and playing happily with a Barbie doll with very matted hair. She swished it in the salty water and dragged it up and down the stones. It was clearly a much loved plaything and the child could see beyond its shabby and salt crusted appearance. Just then a male arrived who was obviously her father. He looked as though he’d just come from the gym and sucked the warmth from the sun. The mother’s mood dropped down and the little girl just glared at him and wouldn’t sit near him on the towel. He carried on oblivious to the loathing that his family clearly had for him. His wife was instructed to take photos of him while he went in the sea which she did in a perfunctory way and the little girl just stared at him with undisguised hatred. If looks could kill she really had it going on!

When I came back from my swim they’d left, and I wondered to what sort of life they returned.

I turned my attention to the couple nearby. There’s always one partner who loves the other more. You might think it’s even but it’s not. These two were half lying and sitting and it was clear that she loved him more. She kept stroking him in a proprietorial way, and was not above looking round to see imagined crowds of envious other onlookers. In fact I think they were invisible except to me. He got bored with being petted and sat up to drink his beer. Taking a long swig and scanning the beach he pointed out a nubile blonde. ‘Looks like Emma, doesn’t she?’

‘No!’ his girlfriend said dismissively. ‘She’s quite different. She’s fatter for a start.’

I looked keenly at the bloke to see if he would realise he was onto a loser here. It could only end one way. But no, letting a pebble drop from his fingers he sealed his fate.

‘I think Emma has a great figure and that girl is built the same…’ after a while into the frozen silence he kept saying ‘What? What? What am I supposed to have said wrong now…?’

I stifled a smile. For them it would be a long journey back to Croydon, but I have a new character that I can kill. Painfully…