My Son Slowly Killing Me (Holiday Update #2)

My Fitness app blew up. We had been walking that much it stopped counting my steps and went into meltdown. Sun cream was running into my eyes, stinging as they were as I squinted against the sun.

I convinced him that it was time, after hours walking around Blackpool in the heat, to head back to the B&B for a shower.

Cold shower done, it was bliss to lounge on the bed in the shade.

“Dad, can we go on the beach now with the football?”

I silently sighed in exasperation.

“Why don’t we take a break for a bit first? We don’t have to do everything at once. We’ve still got three days here.”

“Please. I want to go into the sea while you take shots at me.”

I mentioned the sun, how it might be cooler and safer in a few hours, but he broke down all my walls. So off we went, sun cream back on, into the oppressive heat. It was a million degrees.

There wasn’t much relief in the sea breeze, either, and as he waded in there a few feet I began launching the football at him beneath the sledgehammer sun.

The only thing off-putting to him were the jellyfish, they were washing up everywhere on the sand. It wasn’t enough for him to call it a day, though. Maybe he felt challenged by the two younger kids (they sounded Australian) who were scooping them up and throwing them back into the water.

And then came was Divine Intervention.

The next day was the first of the annual Blackpool Airshow, with the Red Arrows, Spitfires and all others expected to attract a further 100,000 people to the holiday resort. While we were stood there, he up to his waist in the sea, me wilting on the beach, two low-flying jets came screaming in above us. Maybe they were coming in early for tomorrow’s show, or the pilot’s were familiarising themselves with the route they were due to take.

“What are those?” he shouted in alarm, looking upwards.

“Quick!” I said, taking the opportunity, “we have to get back to the B&B. It’s the Russians!”

We returned later, just before sundown.

Claws for the Weekend:Hello Sunshine

Us British are a stoical, hardy lot.

Since time immemorial, we have made the annual pilgrimage to the coast. Or, as we Brits like to put it, the seaside. We herd the kids together, wipe the noses, control the tantrums, and head for a few challenging days by the beach. In our idealised expectations we pack the suncream, the buckets and spades, the swimming costumes. In our acknowledged realism we also take the coats, the tissues, the umbrellas.

But cast these latter items aside-it is Friday, it is July, and we have sunshine. And it is set to last.

That is my informed prediction, using the latest technology and data obtained from orbiting satellites, and also from an in-depth year long study of the behaviour of a colony of ants in my garden.

But, more importantly than that, the weather girl on the television winked at me and said “Summer’s here.” Teasing minx that she is.

So, you hear that kids-it’s here! Cheer up.

kids beach

Take your coat off Aunty Ethel. Go buy an ice cream.

photo (22)

Have a great, sun-kissed weekend everybody. Try not to get burnt.

See you on the flipside.