Big stormy seas to watch and hear and smell and feel.
The salt and the whipped up foam drifts which wild easterlies swept across the beach and roadway.
The big waves would bring the logs in, and that meant new additions to the great shingle recreation ground to play on and, of course, when Guy Fawke's emerged set fire to.
We liked big storms and big waves.
A lot of people did because I can remember lots of old Austins and Wolesleys and Morris' parking up along the beachfront when the waves went wild.
Which explained a very strange thing which happened in that May of 1960, and which I embraced, along with so many others.
I can vaguely recall being told that we were to go home as quick as we were able, and to keep away from the seashore because there had been another big earthquake far away in Chile and there could be some more tidal waves.
Like the ones a couple of days earlier which broke a few moorings down at the inner harbour and caused some damage out Te Awanga and Clifton way.
They had swept in very early in the morning and there had been no warnings.
But this time the science chaps were not in bed asleep so alerted all the seafront schools along the eastern seaboards to clear the decks.
Yay! We yelped with delight and headed ... straight for the beach.
But we weren't the only ones as it seemed half of Napier had already driven up there and parked up to watch the horizon.
I can recall an old chap with binoculars scanning the nautical landscape.
He was probably terribly disappointed that nothing emerged.
What we were led to believe back then was that a "tidal wave" was just that.
One big wave and she's all done and dusted.
Which, in the sense it is a big wave, is correct.
Except that a massive volume of high water follows and pushes it far inland ... and then the second surge arrives, and often a third one.
I think dad said something along the lines that if it was a big road-crossing wave he'd get the ladder out and we'd get up on the roof.
Mum would make a few sandwiches and we could take our comics to read until the wave went out again.
But as the years wore on the Japanese term 'tsunami'' emerged. As television entered our lives we started to see pictures of these terrible walls of water, created by earthquakes.
We'd only previously heard about them on the radio, and in newspapers, and they didn't seem to happen very often.
But seeing what they did in moving pictures changed the whole response game.
My approach today is one of making a call on what to do at the time, and be mindful that one traffic jam or prang will wreck a thousand or more escape plans if a major alarm were to sound.
So I keep the ladder handy and ensure there's enough bread to make a few sandwiches and a plastic bag to put the comics in.
It has been a time of frightening things, and here's another one.
It is four weeks and five days until Christmas Day.
Four weeks and five days ... 34 days and counting down.
And yes, the daily reminders are all there, in fact in many shops they have been there for a fortnight or more already.
Before we know it the hot cross buns will be back.
And soon be time to get some lolly packs sorted for the return of the Halloween hordes.
Better get the broom handle fixed ... damned autumn leaves.
