Summer holidays, part the third
We went to Frinton yesterday, and it was ace - all sort of windswept and sandy, and Small Person made me very proud indeed by showing some fledgling hippy tendencies and announcing that she wanted to stay and look at the sea forEVER. Then we went to Walton and it was full of malnourished, miserable people on a fortnight's holiday to the arse end of Essex. We went in the arcade, and had ice creams, and tried not to catch anyone's eye lest they stabbed us to death for looking at them wrong. The child-friendly part of our week off is now officially over.
Small Person has gone to her dad's until Sunday. The weather is rubbish, and we've not long since been paid. I wonder how we can most effectively use our time over the next couple of days?
Ooh! I know!
Beer. Sweet, sweet beer. Today, we are off to our favourite pub. We're going to buy loads of newspapers (we expecially like the Mail on days like these, as there's so much to get splutteringly irate over), have some lunch, and revel in that bunking-off feeling you get when you're on the lash and everyone else is at work. Last time we did this, we were all oh, we'll be home by six. Bound to be. Cut to eleven pm, and we're dancing like mongs at a pub down the road, wondering who switched the wobbly floor on.
It might not seem like a very constructive use of our time, but we're over that. We like to think of it as team building, only without the strapping yourself to a man called Jeremy and pretending to cross a raging river part. We have busy lives, me and the Other Half, and days like today offer us a chance to catch up, chill out and (most importantly) sit in a window seat and poke fun at the general public.
You gots to love an all-dayer. Hurray!