As we arrived the boat pulled in and a tense scene unfolded with a BMW pulling up as close as it could to the pier ( pier ? I am unsure of the terminology here ) . A woman and a man jumped out and ran over to the boat where men were hauling up a box of precious cargo . Four lobsters . An elderly man at the top waved his arms and offered his opinions about where the fishermen had gone wrong , why their returns had been so poor , but was met with a stony silence as the men unloaded the four unfortunates , all waving spines and wiry bits .
The lobsters were dropped into the buckets , transferred into the buckets and into the back of the BMW by the blonde haired woman , who looked so chic she could have been a model or an actress . The car reversed and drove off at a fast pace . The whole scene was fast paced and we were caught in the middle of it , onlookers , not quick enough and also slightly intimidated to take pictures of the transactions . It felt as if we had witnessed something not quite ok . A handing over of guns , or smuggled diamonds .
Meanwhile against the harbour wall a man with the appearance of an academic reading a newspaper , shoes and socks removed in the sun . I was too shy to ask for a photo . I looked at him with longing , but I couldn't do it .
Why was he not working , on a Thursday ? Does his week end on a Wednesday evening ? Was he skiving in the sun ? A lunch break ? Why my endless curiosity about everyone else's lives ?
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