In Hollywood the girl never ends up with wet pants

I’ve been swept off my feet. Have to confess it wasn’t entirely unpleasant at the time, but neither was it the fairy tale ending you get in the films. I had the handsome stranger, the deserted beach and the beautiful sunset – but all I have now is a sore bottom that is just about bearable when I’m upright - but sitting? Not even an option. It’s a real pain in the a*** (oh I’m sorry, but it was just too glaringly obvious to pass up).

Until kite surfing took over our waves, there was a sport that quite often took over our sands – the buggying version. In a nutshell, this involved half-sitting, half-lying on a go-kart while the wind dragged you along the beach. At least that’s what it looked like to me. I’m sure people are rolling their eyes in horror at my description but you get the picture.

You don’t see so many buggies along our little stretch of coast these days, but I’ve just discovered the hard way that they haven’t vanished completely.

It was during my evening stroll along the shore, sands deserted, beach my own. The tide was so far out you could hardly see the water and the day’s torrential rain had cleared the sky for an awe-inspiring sunset, long orange fingers stretching across the sky in every shade you can possibly imagine.

I spotted the lone buggy some way off and watched idly as its occupant struggled to keep going in the direction he chose rather than the one dictated by the wind (still not sure how they do that).

These buggies are capable of serious speed, but as this one was going against the wind it was actually moving far slower than me.

I strolled past and, once the buggy was behind me, I forgot it. I was lost in thought, gazing at the sunset, dreaming of summer and how romantic it would be to be paddling hand-in-hand when - wham - I was flat on my back, gagging for breath like a codfish.

For a minute I could see nothing and then, as the stars cleared, a face came into focus a few inches above mine. Not a bad looking face at that. Sent, maybe, to make my sunset fantasy a reality?

‘God, I’m really sorry,’ said the face. He did sound extremely sorry. ‘I don’t know how I did that. The damn thing just picked up speed suddenly and I lost it. Are you all right?’

I wasn’t, as it turned out. Only when my dog, belatedly remembering who feeds him, plodded back to find out what was holding me up and slobbered all over my face, did I discover I couldn’t move.

‘Let me help you,’ said the Face. Given that it was a very nice face and it was attached to a very nice body, I let its strong, brown arms help me.

Upright again, I wiggled various body parts without too much pain and decided the most damage had been done in the dignity area. Reluctantly I said I didn’t need him to take me to hospital. I also turned down his offer to teach me to kite buggy. He laughed, slightly hysterically, when I suggested he learn how to do it himself first.

I limped slowly home, nursing my bruised pride and wet pants. In Hollywood when this happens the heroine never has to limp home alone with wet pants.