1.  Sardines

2.  Flounder

3.  Shark

So. After yesterday’s triathlon, what sort of a lie in do you think our perfect children game us? 6am.  Little Baskets.  We put them in the Double Bed with us.  Son 2 aged 2 tried pestering The Man. Didn’t work. Tried pestering me. Didn’t work. Reached over me to bat at Son 1 aged 4 y 11m.  Giggles to the left.  Giggles to the right. “Sweets,” said Son 2. ”Son 2, are you hungry?” “Es.” “Do you want your breakfast?”  “Es.”  Son 2 ate nothing but peas-in-the-pod and biscuits yesterday afternoon.  They promised they’d have a sleep during the day. 

The weather was fine, the water was flat.  We knew we were for it if we stayed in.  We rang round for reinforcements for a Boat Trip.   A Wednesday Mum and her family came. We packed leftover quiche and chocolate cake.  We went to the Yacht Club. The Man brought The Boat into the quay.  We chugged around, fishing.  The Wednesday Mum had a real, live fish on the end of her line. It Got Away.  And then… she, Retired Army Captain husband and The Man started catching fish. RACH took them off the line… And he’d brought a large stone with him.  For killing the fish with a blow to the head. At first, he did it. Then, his son, Five Year Old Friend, did it. And then, Son 1.   I watched him do it.  He’s killed a living creature before he’s five. Forty years older, I still haven’t.  I can clean and gut a fish, and always enjoy meat-eaters’ squeamishness when they see my matter-of-fact technique. But I have no idea whether or not I could kill a crittur.  I just felt as Son 1 lives on The River, he should be able to catch a mackerel.  And put it out of its misery.  He walked round clutching the stone.  “Anyone want to bash a fish?”

Total catch: 10 mackerel and 21 crabs. The crabs went back in the river.  Back home, we wrapped up four fish in greaseproof paper and hung them in a bag on the neighbours’ front door. She told Son 1 that if he ever caught any mackerel, she’d buy them from him. He was heartbroken when she wasn’t in. The Man lit a barbecue, I made new potatoes and broccoli, and we barbecued the two fish we’d kept. The Man wasn’t sure, but I told him he had to eat them to Be A Good Example For The Boys. Son 1 wouldn’t. Sucked a few bits in his mouth, but that was it. Son 2 wolfed it. We had just started to suspect Son 2 may have been a fish in a previous life.  It would explain the unswerveable fascination with both fish and wah-wah.   From the way he gobbled the mackerel, he must, of course,  have been a Big Fish.

1.  Terrible Teeth

2.  Terrible Claws

3.  Turned Out Toes

Moving The Cot into Son 1 aged 4y 9m’s room was kind of successful.  Son 2 aged 21m slept through and slept till 0730. Son 1 however was up in the Big Bed by about 0030. 

We went to the Rockpool Beach with the full set of Wednesday Friends. Son 1 refused his sunsuit and ran off with his Best Friend. They headed off, hundreds of yards down the beach and out over the rocks.  Best Friend’s Little Brother was playing with a Big Truck, Three Year Old Friend was playing in the sand. Son 2 aged 21m trogged down to the water’s edge.  He trogged back again and tugged at the food bag. “Food. Food.”  Four periwinkles rolled down the beach mat next to him.  He settled for  a drink “Joos. Joos” and toddled off to the rock pools again.  One Wednesday Mother went for a sea swim.  I put my costume on.  There was a howl and a scream from Best Friend.  We stood and peered.  His Mother went over. “There’s blood everywhere,” shouted Son 1.  Best Friend had fallen and bitten through his bottom lip.  Blood dripped all over his bare chest and tummy. “It’s like Dracula,” said Son 1.  HIs  Mother cleaned him up.  The imprints of his two big front teeth were clear in his fat bottom lip.

We ate lunch, the children rejecting The Man’s chicken sandwiches in favour of the smartie and jelly tot cakes I bought for tea on Monday.  A Book Club Mum arrived with her little girl. I heaved Son 1 and Son 2 over to the loo, and then took them down to the low tide-line to look for fish and crabs.  Our tally was two dead crabs, and one still alive which had only three legs. I couldn’t cope with that one and had to put it back in the sea. Son 2 carried his dead crab around proudly. “Bab. Bab.” He held out the bucket “Fish.”  We couldn’t find any fish. Best Friend, Little Brother and Mother left.  I cajoled the children back up the beach, although Son 1 still wanted to play. At the beach mat, Son 2 lay down on his back and looked at me. Son 1 curled up on the sand.  I put up the beach tent for them to play in and went for a quick swim in the sea.  Icy but fab. The water was turquoise, long seaweed fingers stroked at me as I swam out and back. I didn’t spend long in, and after I came back the others left. I put the boys in the car, drove home and they were both deeply asleep. The Man joined us for an ice cream at the Headland. The  boys woke up. Just as well I’d got them ice cream.  I cut the underside of my tongue on a sharp bit on my cone.  There were bloody red streaks all over my Whirly Whippy as I ate it. Didn’t seem very veggie.

We got them both in bed and asleep at 7.30pm. I went out for a run. I’ve changed my route - I now run through The Town and over towards the Rockpool Beach, although I can’t quite get there in the 15 min out and back I’m currently trying. I’ve bought new trainers - Nikes, after I checked out a few cheaper ones.  In the shop, the assistant offered me a Nike Chip to put in my shoe.  It will then register with my Ipod, and play fast music when I run fast and slow music when i run slow.  I said no. Too humiliating if it never chooses fast music for me.