It's been a while since I've sat by myself in a coffee shop. It was a favourite pass time when I used to work in the city center. You get to see some of the city's most amazing shows. Not the kind that's rehearsed but the type of show for which there is no cover charge, the stage is everywhere and the actors don't take a bow.

Today I find myself far from the city. I’m right on the beach. Unfamiliar in my role as spectator, a man without a board, I’m trying to just relax and take it all in. It’s amazing how that piece of foam and fiberglass allows you to blend in and feel at home. Even on a beach in a foreign land, a board under my arm makes me feel like I belong.

I’m a mere 15km away from home on this bright, windy day. No palm trees or black sand beaches and no familiar faces speaking in unfamiliar accents, just the nostalgic feel of yesteryear tugging at the fringes of my memory. I used to spend all my free time here as I started my journey through the world of surf. It was a gathering point for many a young adventurer about to embark on a wild journey.

Today I find it’s still that same place - host to a new class, ready to graduate, yet far from the finish line. Do they know that there are no diplomas or gold stars waiting at the end of each lesson? Does it even matter? Not when the rewards, as intangible as they are, turn out to be infinitely more valuable.

So many years and so many lessons learnt

Is it any wonder that my next discovery of truth should be found here? Who would’ve thought that a high school graduate could learn something new in pre-school? How many lessons have I missed? How many truths have I turned into lies? It becomes only slightly visible like the 2 foot slop I face through the salt encrusted windows of the coffee shop. It becomes clearer as I see the smiles on the faces of a group who are learning to surf. 2 foot slop or 6 foot J-Bay perfection? Kelly Slater or Darryl Brandreth? Is there a difference in the stoke?

As time goes by, more salt collects on my window. My view is slowly diminishing yet my vision is becoming clearer. I see more truth and I feel more lies. I see the car guard who smiles at each person as they leave their vehicle in his care. I see him joke and laugh but I feel him cry and scream. I see the spring in his step but I feel the boulder he drags behind him, chained to his existence. I see a stranger but I feel the familiarity. Is he happy or sad? I’m not sure. I see his joy yet I feel his sorrow. How is it possible to know this man without ever speaking to him?

“Another cuppa?” asks the waitress

Should I? Perhaps there’s more to see and learn here today. I think I’ll hang around and take some notes. What do I write about this guy though? 6 foot tall with maybe 100 kilo’s of WWE smack you down muscle. What is there to say about him? What can you learn from a man with a huge bandage on his head and blood dripping down his face? Always know where your board is I guess. Never turn your back on HER? Size doesn’t matter? Some days are better than others? I wonder what he’s taking home with him besides the bandage and a headache?

And that group over there? It looks like they brought their whole house to the beach. Pots, plates, chairs and buckets? That can’t be right. That can’t be legal either. Maybe they have a point. Maybe more is more and less is less. Maybe some just need more and others less. Am I even in need? Am I allowed to be? More or less?

Perhaps it’s time to get the bill. The day is done and my time is up. I do look forward to tomorrow though, with all that it may bring. I must remember today, keep it in mind but never look back. Perhaps that, more than anything else, is my lesson.

By Darryl Brandreth