The Jazz Lounge

I had noticed the portly middle-aged man before and I did not like him. He used to hang around the seafront dressed in a battle-green army jacket and he had a camera with an enormous tele-photo lens on it. As I studied him over a number of mornings it was apparent that his favourite subject was women swimmers and sunbathers getting changed on the beach. He would lean against the side of the Victorian shelter that I was in and take lots of photos, his camera firing off dozens of shots a minute.

One morning a friend of a group of swimmers was chatting to me in the shelter. He noticed the photographer and realised what he was doing. Incensed by this he jumped up and began arguing with the man. The photographer hurried away and argued back that he was perfectly within his rights to photograph anything and anybody (which is apparently the case).

A few days later at around 06:15 the photographer was back.This time he had a very attractive young woman with him. She cavorted about on the beach in her swimwear whilst he circled her taking shots.

A few minutes later they both walked up to me and asked if they could use my saxophone as a prop for some 'fashion' shots. I politely refused. Moments later the girl re-appeared this time dressed in a lovely red evening dress and began to drape herself around the shelter that I was sitting and playing in whilst the greasy photographer urged her to show a bit more leg or breast depending on the shot he wanted. I asked them to go away. He was completely unfazed and said that she was Romanian and he was helping her with her modelling career.

They walked off together and I noticed that he tried to put his arm around her which she pushed away. I felt very sad.