The peacocks prance in too short shorts while the muscle men gleam in tight vests.
The joggers sweat, their steps an uneven backdrop competing with indesiferable chatter.
Lovers cuddle, not quite subtly enough, on blankets and under trees, ignoring the rest of the world.
Boat tours glide past, their guests sipping drinks and taking in the swarm of people on picnic blankets, each group its own space claimed for the day, each group believing they have the perfect spot.
Circles get wider, bigger, louder as friends and friends of friends gather creating complex Venn diagrams of connection, no one sure who knows whom. Introductions are made as couples and their colleagues, friends, neighbours and visitors meet to pass some time, to enjoy the tranquility with hundreds of others.
And parents push prams and dads carry tired-legged little ones on shoulders.
Cyclist cling their bells at idle strollers who wander aimlessly, taking up too much of the path.
And no one minds at all. It’s easy and it’s carefree. It’s a public holiday and the sun is shining. Under the castle’s watchful gaze, we sit and we sun. We chat and we snooze. We be.
Because today, being is the only thing we need do.