The casette player is dreaming about California, and the small waves are translucent in the weak sun. Quite a sight to see burly men jostle each other, playing like little boys. One of the Austrians grab the Pole, throws him over his shoulder, and staggers into the surf with him. The Pole retaliates in the only way open to him, and pulls down the Austrian's pants. At which they collapse into the milky white foam, laughing at the fun of it all.
Some guys play football again.
They say that wine after beer brings pain, but beer after wine brings pleasure. The Beatles sail along in their Yellow Submarine, and Oh, I love you dearly, more dearly than the spoken word can say. By now we are all quite happy, bumping through to the stops. So I play it again. He plays an Irish song, which has the Irish contingent tapping their feet, singing lustily along, crying out their longing for their wives who have to handle the kids and building the new house while the men are here doing nothing, waiting for the work to start again, and feeling helpless in the meantime.