Speed Eating Oysters By The Clifton Beach

Concept-wise, eating freshly shucked oysters with a glass of bubbles by the beach sounds romantic. Doing it on one of the most beautiful private beaches I’d ever seen? Even more so.

With that thought in mind, I bid goodbye to Liz, who was in the middle of baking a batch of her signature cookies in the kitchen of our Airbnb-ed Clifton Beach house.

“Back soon Liz” I promised.

I trudged down to the beach in my snow jacket—one hand holding a plate of a dozen oysters, the other clutching a glass of prosecco. My camera hung around my neck, and Miaw was tucked snugly in my pocket.

I passed through the bushes, careful not to take the wrong path, but still ended up at a neighbour’s private entrance. Eventually, I found the right spot, plopped down, slurped my oyster, and sipped my bubbles.

A couple of walkers passed by, giving me an approving nod at my setup. I was too excited to notice the wind picking up, the sky growing darker by the minute, or that the couple had started hurrying back to their property.

I pulled up my hood and decided to stick it out—I was already there.

Then the rain poured. Mericlessly.

In the end, I can tell you there’s nothing romantic about gulping the rest of my drink in one go and speed-eating oysters that have been no-so-lightly sprinkled with sand, all while angry waves crash right in front of me and I try to shield myself, uneaten oysters and Miaw.

I rushed back in the pouring rain, everything in tow, only to find Liz standing outside the house, umbrella in hand, ready to pick me up as she worried I’d gotten drenched.

Now that‘s romantic.

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