I don’t like holidays at the sea. Did I say that already? Maybe I should check last year’s posts. The fact is that after a ten minute swim and a walk, I’m bored to death. And it’s usually too hot to do anything else. Especially if you are in a small village where there is nothing to do in a radius of miles and miles and you don’t have a car anyway. But if you add to the scene a couple of kids, that’s perfection. You now have nothing to do but chase them to put their suncream on, then chase them to put their swimsuit on, then drag them to the beach, where they won’t be allowed to splash water on other people or throw sand or run in the water by themselves or just play in the sun all day, drag them to the water, drag them out of the water, chase them to reapply the suncream while not covering themselves and you in sand (I don’t think any parent ever managed that one) and finally drag them home where they will resist having a shower with all their might, bringing sand everywhere and especially on your bed when they finally fall asleep. And rest assured, by the time you’ll have cleaned up all that mess and had a shower and maybe something to eat, and attempt to have a nap, they’ll be up and willing to play again. Only that now it’s 1.30pm, the temperature outside is close to the surface of the sun and you’ve got to entertain them at home for hours on end. Repeat twice a day every day. My mum never liked going to the sea and I couldn’t figure out what was not to like. Now I know, she didn’t like going to the sea WITH US.
OK, rant over. For now.