we all like to be beside the seaside...
yesterday i was lucky enough to be invited to spend the day with friends who are holidaying at camber sands. three generations of the family are renting a wonderful light and airy house a stones throw from the sea.
after lunch, the youngest members of the clan were taken off by their father in the hope they might nap in the car. the oldest member of the clan took himself off for a nap in the garden. this left the next youngest, her mother, and her grandmother, and me, to go for a swim. i had anticipated a potential swim and had therefore thrown my swimming costume in the car before leaving home. this garment has not been worn for quite some time and in the intervening period i have lost and gained and lost and gained various amounts of weight. it was therefore hit and miss whether it would a) stay up or b) cover all the relevant bits.
we made our way down the sand and there followed some getting-in-and-out-of-clothes-yoga but eventually we were ready to take to the waves. having reassured ourselves that there were no sea monsters and that the riptide was far enough away to avoid harm, we ventured in. some beaches are quite steeply sloping and catch a swimmer unawares. camber sands is not one of them. we got bored with walking eventually and lay down to swim in shallow, and slightly warmer, water. by sucking in my stomach and remaining horizontal i managed to avoid looking too much like a beached whale and enjoyed some pleasant floating and splashing before we retired to the beach.
we wended our way back to the holiday house, past inflatable dolphins and buckets and spades. i resolutely avoided looking at abandoned shacks that were just calling out for a kind person to rescue them. my days of wielding a club hammer and a crowbar are over.
after a nice cup of tea i climbed in the car and headed homewards. fast forward to my entrance to our place, where i was greeted by some very interested lurchers who wanted to lick every bit of exposed skin to taste the salt. the Ageing Rockstar and i sat on the sofa and i showed him my photos and told him about my day.
“look, if you lick my arm you can taste the salt!” i said, proffering the arm.
“i’m not licking that!” he squawked.
“why ever not? it’s the other arm the dogs were licking.”
“i’d rather lick lurcher spit than seawater!”
“seawater is lovely and salty, and probably very healthy,” i reassure him.
“rubbish. the sea is full of fish. and fish pee and poo in it.”
i had not seen any fish where we were swimming and told him this.
“that doesn’t matter - fish have been peeing and pooing in the sea since time began and the waves wash all the fish wee into the beaches. so you are trying to get me to lick fish urine!”
at this point i admitted defeat and went off to have a shower...
after lunch, the youngest members of the clan were taken off by their father in the hope they might nap in the car. the oldest member of the clan took himself off for a nap in the garden. this left the next youngest, her mother, and her grandmother, and me, to go for a swim. i had anticipated a potential swim and had therefore thrown my swimming costume in the car before leaving home. this garment has not been worn for quite some time and in the intervening period i have lost and gained and lost and gained various amounts of weight. it was therefore hit and miss whether it would a) stay up or b) cover all the relevant bits.
we made our way down the sand and there followed some getting-in-and-out-of-clothes-yoga but eventually we were ready to take to the waves. having reassured ourselves that there were no sea monsters and that the riptide was far enough away to avoid harm, we ventured in. some beaches are quite steeply sloping and catch a swimmer unawares. camber sands is not one of them. we got bored with walking eventually and lay down to swim in shallow, and slightly warmer, water. by sucking in my stomach and remaining horizontal i managed to avoid looking too much like a beached whale and enjoyed some pleasant floating and splashing before we retired to the beach.
we wended our way back to the holiday house, past inflatable dolphins and buckets and spades. i resolutely avoided looking at abandoned shacks that were just calling out for a kind person to rescue them. my days of wielding a club hammer and a crowbar are over.
after a nice cup of tea i climbed in the car and headed homewards. fast forward to my entrance to our place, where i was greeted by some very interested lurchers who wanted to lick every bit of exposed skin to taste the salt. the Ageing Rockstar and i sat on the sofa and i showed him my photos and told him about my day.
“look, if you lick my arm you can taste the salt!” i said, proffering the arm.
“i’m not licking that!” he squawked.
“why ever not? it’s the other arm the dogs were licking.”
“i’d rather lick lurcher spit than seawater!”
“seawater is lovely and salty, and probably very healthy,” i reassure him.
“rubbish. the sea is full of fish. and fish pee and poo in it.”
i had not seen any fish where we were swimming and told him this.
“that doesn’t matter - fish have been peeing and pooing in the sea since time began and the waves wash all the fish wee into the beaches. so you are trying to get me to lick fish urine!”
at this point i admitted defeat and went off to have a shower...
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