Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside...

So here we are in Biarritz again and this time, heaven forfend, it's actually sunny and we have been on the beach, which has been amazing. We're on the beach this time with a completely new spud, I have to say. We've been on the beach with a little baby spud who sat on my lap wide-eyed until his gaze fell upon my boobs and lo, he was hungry. We've sat on the beach with a little crawling spud who ate handfuls of sand until lo, his nappies could double as industrial abrasives. We've sat on the beach with a scaredy little spud who didn't want to leave the towel, touch his feet in the water or do anything that involved touching anything other than the grip he had on the back of my neck and, earlier this year, we, or rather I and my Mother were on the beach with a braver spud who was happy to paddle about in rock pools but much much too frightened to go anywhere near that sea stuff.

Today however we were on the beach with a wholly new spud, a spud who could not be restrained from the sea, a spud who could fall face-first into the ocean and come up spluttering and laughing and ready to do it all again. Oh yes. Today, we had buckets and spades and sand castles and moats and paddling and jumping over waves and sandy hands and a sandy bum and sandy peaches and sandy sandwiches and did I say sand? And heat rash... but I digress.

Finally, all my dreams about being able to lie on the beach reading a book while the spud plays sweetly beside me may be about to come true - hallelujah! It does however help that his French cousins are with us for the week and having three mini babysitters and sand-castle builders in his vicinity is a big impetus for him to get busy with a shovel. Having said that, he is definitely over-joyed to be here and after the first day, he greets the sight of the sea by struggling out of his restraints and legging it at top speed to the edge of the surf where he does a sort of vaudeville dance which lacks only a set of spoons and someone singing 'Knees Up Mother Brown' to bring the house down.

The downside is that he's too excited to sleep meaning that our nights are somewhat less joyous, however he did manage 12 hours in the land of nod yesterday and for that we are ever grateful.

In other news he has been doling out kisses to his french grandparents which trick is wonderful for diverting attention from the other activities he's been getting up to recently, vis a vis stealing enough beer behind the frog's back at our recent barbeque to warrant an actual hangover and potentially a stern warning from social services should they ever find out where we live. He is now to be found lingering about with intent where-ever a recognisable beer can has been spotted and so despite the endless soaking of clothes in seawater, this is proving to be a pretty dry holiday.

More anon.

.