Beside the Seaside

Those of you that notice such things will be aware it's been some time since my last post. This is due to the sort of work related stress normally only encountered by Indiana Jones. Remember that bit at the start of Raiders of the Lost Ark? It was like that except without the arrows, spiders, Inca idol or an unrealistic latex model of Alfred Molina with a spear through his head. You might therefore argue it was nothing like Raiders of the Lost Ark, but you weren't there. Back off, man.

The reason for my ridiculous simile is that I can't go into details about what happened at work. Plus you wouldn't want me to because it's rather dull. Plus I get to compare myself to Indiana Jones (whom I resemble in no way at all. I once tried on his hat in the Disney store and discovered I looked like Quentin Crisp). Anyway, let's just say that the past few weeks have made me reassess my priorities and want to spend more time with my Kids.

Seriously. It was that bad.

Annoyingly I missed taking the Kids to another theme park due to work. Fortunately the Mother-In-Law opted to take my place. Obviously I was very grateful about this because otherwise they couldn't go, and the last thing I needed was two sulky children spreading Marmite on my work. Or using it as dressings in the Girl's baby hospital. More appropriately referred to as a "baby abattoir" since I found one of her dolls hanging by the neck with a very pretty pink ribbon. The Mother-In-Law's assistance has been invaluable since we've had the Kids. Only the other week she came round to baby sit whilst the Wife was out and played Snap with the Kids for hours. Sadly, the reason it went on for hours was because she was using a pack of Star Wars Top Trumps which doesn't have any pairs.

Once they'd got back we packed up the tent and buggered off to the seaside. I love the seaside. Take everything important in your life, cover it in sunscreen and liberally coat in sand. What could be finer? We'd headed once again for the Suffolk coast, which for those of you living outside Britain is what the Shire from Lord of the Rings really looks like. Here we learnt the fundamental difference between taking the Kids to a pebble beach and a sandy beach.

Sandy beach - everything you'd expect. Everything gets covered in sand, everyone looks a bit like a doughnut, I end up with sand under my one of my fingernails ("Oooh!" - I know!) and at some point you lose an item of clothing due to burial. Plus, the Kids don't have any sand discipline which means whenever they move, you get covered in sand. We foolishly positioned ourselves right next to a large and impressive sand castle. The Boy took one look at this and decided he was Isambard Kingdom Brunel.

"I want to build that."

"Well, if you pretend you've built that one, then it's mission accomplished."

"You're an idiot."

Clearly this had not worked. So, he set to work with his bucket and spade. After several failures he gave up and set to digging the deepest hole he could. This was done with the gusto of a Labrador burying your best shoes, and showered everyone within several meters in sand, shells and cigarette butts. Meanwhile the Girl was simply lying face up in the sand looking thoroughly PO'd. The Wife asked her if she was making a sand angel, to which the Girl responded by rolling onto her face. When she came back up for air she looked even more PO'd and now had sand on her eyes. ON HER EYES.

Don't get my cynicism wrong - I love the seaside. I hate the sand. And dads (WARNING - GRAPHIC IMAGE COMING UP) if you think it's stressful washing sand out of your own foreskin, it's worse when it's not yours. I do not have the words...

Pebble beach - infinitely preferable. Until the Kids start throwing stones at each other. Or someone's dog. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised to see the Girl staggering around with a large rock, preparing to drop it on a snoozing pensioner.

Oh, and then you decide to go for a paddle in a sea where only a few miles off the coast workers on oil rigs are being told that if they fall in the water they'll die.