We arrived at Artichoke Villas, landlord and Landlady had our room ready but Moony swears that she caught her giving a suspicious sideways glance and muttering to her husband. She even swears she heard the words “old dear” and “rich”. Our room looks over the sea and the pier is in view which means we have our black out curtains up. The light from various seaside entertainments keeps us awake, we like to tuck in about nine or ten after the tea dances (Well I do).
Down to breakfast promptly at seven, Moonys’ order of fried locust on toast caused mutterings amongst our fellow guests. I had to bring my own sprout jam as they never get it quite right. We then donned our sun hats and swim suits, packed our picnic basket and made our way to the beach. We had arranged to meet Charles and Henny there; they were on a day trip. Sadly they had neglected to tell us they would be bringing along the grandchildren. By the time we got there they were already covered in sand, plucking creatures from rock pools and hiding them in grandmas’ handbag (she got quite a few surprises). All we wanted was a few cocktails at the Sea View Hotel and some time to unwind under the sun with a good book.
We acted delighted to see them all of course, and things didn’t start too badly. Sadly embarrassment was to follow, the little ones expressed a desire for some rock and Moony (unusually for her) offered to take them to get some. I went back to my book “Where The Heart Leads” - but just as I was nearing the moment when we would discover if the heroine would find love with the gifted eye surgeon who was also a fantastically rich Texas oil baron after she had recovered her memory and realised that the man who called himself her brother was actually a communist spy who was looking for microfilm in her handbag - I heard wailing and screaming from the children. They ran to Gran and Grandpa carrying... beach rocks. I had to make a special trip up to the pier to buy three enormous sugar dummies. And I almost stopped talking to Moony completely.
As the little ones sucked happily away and built sand castles (each one a replica of one of Grandpas palaces), Granny went for a swim. Henny had kitted herself out in a Victorian bathing suit, still it was less glaring than Charlie’s knitted tartan trunks a gift from (no prizes for guessing ) Mary Queen Of Scots . Soon little arms waved in the air and shouts of “Aide moi!” Charlie who had his binoculars out, supposedly looking for shipping (ohh yes, those girls wouldn’t know shipping if it hit them about their poodle hair-dos) shouted “She’s drowning!” and rushed into the water, dragging Henny to dry land. Her bloomers had filled with water and dragged her down; she was hysterical wailing “No Queen of England ever drowned!” .
Charlie and the kids’ got the water out of her and Charlie soon decided that it was time to go home before another accident could happen. After they had gone we treated ourselves to a hard earned Cocktail and watched the sun go down and the pier lights come on before we returned to our hotel for a very good nights sleep.