Tuesday, 30 July 2013

A storming time

Yesterday we had what I class as a typical "Metcalfe" day at the beach. (Metcalfe was my maiden name and holiday mishaps with my family were varied and plenty).

A day at the beach was on the cards and the plan was the following:
  • Get everyone up and through the shower in a decent time in the morning. Check.
  • Drive quickly to the supermarche, pick up baguette & cheese, race back to the Gite and make lunch. Check
  • Drive to the beach. Check
  • Enjoy a lovely day in the sunshine playing the sand... Erm
Turns out we didn't race around quick enough in the morning so by the time we parked up at the seafront it was almost lunchtime. Our cunning plan was to demolish lunch in the car and then we could spend the next few hours on the beach - avoiding the whole "sand in sandwich" issue. 

By the time we finished eating we noticed that the sky was clouding over but didn't think too much of it. Out of the car we all tumbled and joyfully made our way to the beach. It was a bit of a trek over the sand dunes & when we got there the wind had really picked up. We noticed that all the surfers and sunbathers were packing up but figured they were off to find some lunch.

We decided on our "spot" and as we put our bags down C commented he thought he'd felt some wet on his head. "That's the spray from the sea" K and I said - although judging by the dark clouds that were quickly rolling in I doubt we sounded very confident.

Less than five seconds later the heavens opened and rain lashed down. This was followed swiftly by loud thunder cracks. 

Soaked through, K and I gathered everything up and shouted to C that we had to run back to the car (by this time the weather was so loud we couldn't hear each other if we talked normally). C got very upset as he'd really wanted to play on the beach - and we had promised.

At this point, sane human beings wouldn't have listened to the 4 year old - instead choosing to head back to safety. However, we figured there's only so wet you can get and as long as we didn't go in the water - where was the harm? After a minute or two I did gather E up and head back to the car as he clearly wasn't impressed, but K and C had a delightful time playing on the beach in the thunderstorm.

It's raining again today and C has already asked if we can go to the beach...

Wednesday, 10 July 2013

From glamourpuss to dogs-dinner

There is a type of woman who can breeze through the day looking effortlessly beautiful, never drawing attention to herself with a faux pas and always ending the night looking the same way as she started.

I am apparently not one of them.

On Saturday the sun was high in the sky. My hair was shiny. My dress was glamorous. I was at a wedding with old friends and the promise of champagne lurked a few hundred yards away. Lady luck was smiling down.

And then she started chuckling. And once she’d had a chuckle it was apparently too difficult for her not to break into a full fit of giggles.

The church was on top of a hill and the reception was a few hundred yards below. The path to get between the two was steep and made of exceptionally shiny stone. After the service I started to carefully pick my way down said path. I took small steps – after all I was on a mission to retain the glamorous illusion - but unfortunately it came to an end all too abruptly. My heel slipped from underneath me and I thumped down unceremoniously onto my backside. It hurt a bit (the bruises are looking pretty good!) but it was mainly my pride that was wounded.

I decided that in the scheme of things I could live with the embarrassment so up I got, dusted myself down (a little mud on the back of the dress but nothing too noticeable) and carried on to the reception. Where an hour later I managed to throw mango chutney down the front of my dress. Well - it was going to need dry-cleaning anyway after the mud episode so why do things by halves?!

My Mum & Dad were also at the reception and when I came across them a bit later Mum was struggling to get the heel of her shoe out of the wooden decking where it had become lodged and Dad was wiping food off his tie.

Perhaps it was never my destiny to be one of the breezy women!