Daily Routine

Once again this morning we began our day with what has become predictable routine - namely, a one mile walk upon the beach followed by a return to the pool to lounge in the sun for about an hour.  Today's ceremony was moderately different from normal because we were intent upon vacating the apartment by no later than nine o'clock.  The concierge of the condominium had arranged to have the pest control people frequent our unit immediately upon their arrival (in deference to my lingering invalidity).  Although the sky was an azure blue there was a strong, cold north wind which meant that we were obliged to wear a shell over our Polo shirts and light sweater.

In my usual custom when we arrived at the half-way mark on the beach at the lifeguard stand, I eagerly sat upon the bench to allow myself to recover from the walk. I also attempted to expand the limits of my broken ribs by backing into a drain pipe but the effort was to no avail.  I recall the nursing staff at the hospital informed me not to consider chiropractic service as well (in particular - or so I assume - the much favoured pressure on the back to crack the tightened connections).

The walk back to Sunglow Pier (where we ascend by the boardwalk to the condominium) was reportedly more energetic than the day before, a small compliment to be athletic attempts.  For my part I wasn't feeling much more enthusiastic than previously; and I therefore looked forward with anticipation to my return to the pool to lie on the chaise longue.  When I arrived there - and positioned the chaise to align with the sun - it was certainly bright but the cold north wind was doing nothing to improve the warmth.

What then transpired was something out of the ordinary.  Motivated by the cool morning wind, our early morning jaunt and a relatively small breakfast, we both agreed that a midday meal at a local fish restaurant was a fine idea.  Around 1:30 pm we drove down S Atlantic Avenue to Ponce Inlet where the restaurant is located.  To our surprise the place was not lathered with motorcycles.  I can only assume that the bikers prefer the more popular venues in Daytona Beach.  Our meal there proved to be quite satisfactory.  The oysters - which were from Galveston, Texas - were perhaps the best I have ever had!  They were fresh, cool and perfectly shucked!  We both had fresh conch with lime and diced veggies.  Afterwards it was puttanesca (for His Lordship) and blackened Grouper (for myself).

Old habits die hard.  After lunch I went back to the pool where I collapsed again on chaise longue in the late afternoon sun (now stronger because of the recent change of time to Daylight Savings).