The getting-up-off-the-sand process was no more pretty and somewhat resembled a giraffe at a waterhole, but we'll draw a veil over that, and go on to the next picture.
Many, many pictures followed, as I found myself snapping away happily from different angles, leaning inside and looking through the structure. No, I didn't try and climb up. I would have liked to but I wasn't being paid danger money by the cold drink company. Finally, I found an unusual framing for the distant group of houses.
On the long trek back to the bridge I noticed this line of green dustbins heading off into the distance, making an image almost as pleasing as the lifesaver's chair, I thought. It made me think of stumbling through a distant desert looking for water and finding trashcans instead - ah, the despair.
And now for the slog back across my own particular desert to the bridge over the lagoon. Just as scenes from my childhood were beginning to flash past my eyes (yes, I know that's a bit dramatic, but it was hot) we crossed the bridge, bought cold drinks from the boat hire kiosk and collapsed on to the benches to recover. All in all, a most satisfying morning.