We've not been in the sea in the UK for some time (in my case baptisms excepted). That's the problem with having your own swimming pool: you're disinclined to make the effort to join the heated throngs battling for car park spaces not to mention space on the sand. I spent the rest of the morning psyching myself up for what I was sure would be a chilling experience. Husband said, 'We don't have to; I just thought you might like to.'
'My younger self would never forgive me if I turned this down.'
As children, my friend, Maggi, and I would stay in the water until we were blue. 'A-a-a-en't you c-c-c-c-coming in?' I'd ask my mum and be shocked when she'd decline. Now I fully understand.
So it was with trepidation that we strolled down to Pobbles in the afternoon.
It wasn't too crowded and the water was so good we went in twice!
George couldn't quite see the point of going in the sea if you weren't chasing a stick but he grudgingly came with us.