Shifty Sands

Mo Matthews

This IS a true story but Ginty and Miranda are not really called Ginty and Miranda. The names that they were given at birth in the 1950's are now often used in smart ass comedies (as well as a present cleaning ad on telly), to stereotype rather staid middle aged females. So, they have chosen something a tad more jaunty? Possibly a bit Enid Blytonish. Five (or two) go on an adventure.......

Also, they don't wish to be easily identified as the eejits involved in the following events.

Ginty and Miranda drove on to the Forth Road Bridge. It was a bright, clear September day following, what had seemed like the wettest summer ever. Their spirits lifted as the Forth opened out, blue, below them. They were on one of their Wednesday jaunts. Miranda didn't work on Wednesdays and Ginty didn't have the grand weans. 'Freedom from the demands and the relentless grind of home and family,' sighed Ginty. 'Escape from toil and exploitation, from under the heel of bastard bosses,' added Miranda. They both laughed. Loud. They laughed a lot when they got together. Miranda's youngest daughter said it was more like witches cackling. The plan today, was a walk on the beach at Aberdour with Miranda's old Labrador, Lala (also fictitious name). A mooch round the wee village shops then coffee and cakes at the Castle tearoom. Lovely.

The sea was calm and sparkly and the beach spread out before them as they walked towards the sand. The tide was out. They hadn't seen each other for a few weeks and had a lot to catch up on and were deep in conversation, heads down. 'Verbal diarrhoea,' Ginty's husband had once complained 'Can't get a word in wi' you two'.

Ginty glanced off to the side as they stepped down on to the beach and briefly caught sight of a sign on the fence. 'Shifting sands...' she murmured and then tuned in again to what Miranda was saying.

They stopped and looked ahead. 'Och, it's lovely' said Miranda 'Let's walk along the water's edge.' Miranda followed Lala, who bounced arthritically but cheerfully ahead and Ginty followed on behind. They were getting closer to the water when Miranda's Nike Trainer (only three weeks old) sank below the sand. 'S***!' 'What?' asked Ginty as she caught up, and her foot disappeared into the sand too. 'Christ! Whit the!?' as she pulled her foot free, with a big slurping noise. Her shoe had disappeared. Miranda's foot had sunk a little deeper into the sooking sands. 'Aaaw naw.' moaned Ginty, 'Shifting bloody sands! That sign.' Miranda managed to extricate her foot but when she took another step both feet disappeared up to her ankles. Ginty was still sinking but managed to get herself on to a firmer spot. They looked at each other and laughed. 'Aw God.' They laughed harder. We do cackle, thought Miranda. She sank a little further. Ginty looked alarmed.

'Right' she said 'Go back, Go back. It will be firmer.' With a great effort Miranda pulled one foot free and swung away from the water as she struggled to free the other foot. They floundered back towards the shore for a few yards. Ginty had lost both shoes by now. It wasn't firmer. 'How come the sand is getting wetter?' grunted Miranda. Ginty glanced back over her shoulder. Her eyes bulged and she grabbed on to Miranda. 'The cockle pickers! The cockle pickers!' she babbled. Eh? Miranda looked back and understood. The tide was coming in, water lapping at their heels. 'Ginty,' she tried to sound reasonable 'Calm down, this is Aberdour, not bloody Morecambe Bay.' She felt herself sinking a little more. She was a good bit heavier than Ginty and her left leg had sunk to mid calf. Ginty squinted up the beach. 'Oh, thank God! There's a guy coming to help us'. They both laughed again (cackled?) with relief and even to Mirandas ears she could hear more than an edge of hysteria. The guy stopped then, his head cocked to one side. Then he turned and jogged away in the direction of the car park. They stopped laughing and stared. 'The miserable wee s****, He's running away.'

The sand was up to Miranda's knees. She felt the first frisson of real fear. Ginty was deeper too. She made a determined face and with a grunt of real effort she pulled one foot free. 'Aw naw,' she looked at Miranda 'I've just pee'd a bit' Miranda started laughing. Big, loud, mad, shouts of uncontrollable laughing. She felt her own untrustworthy pelvic floor betray her. 'Bugger it, now I've pee'd too' Ginty smiled but looked concerned at Miranda's unsuccessful struggles to get her legs free of the sand.

Lala barked. The old sweetie had stayed by her side during all of this. Miranda looked at her. Her four paws sat firmly spaced on top of the sand. 'That's it!' she shouted, throwing herself forward on to her hands and knees. 'Crawl Ginty!' And they did. The water catching them up, they crawled a bit, laughed, pee'd a bit then crawled some more until they reached the pebbles and firm sand. Miranda, panting, hauled herself up with the aid of a pole. A big sign was on the pole. BEWARE OF SHIFTING SANDS AT LOW TIDE.

Ginty was incensed. 'What kind of warning is that? Eh? Shifting sands? It should be bloody, s*****, sleekit, SHIFTY sands'. Miranda looked at her and they laughed.

They thought it best not to go to the castle tea room looking deranged, dishevelled and covered in mucky sand, dripping sea water and possibly other bodily fluids.

But Miranda found Ginty a pair of wellies in the car, three sizes too big and they went to MacDonalds at the Forth Road bridge. They had two large, sugary teas, a large blueberry muffin and a chocolate brownie each. For 'the shock' they laughed.