I love the summer holidays, especially the no-clocks-ness of it all. Six whole weeks with no one giving a monkeys if or when we get up. No school runs, consent slips, dinner money or homework. Just sun, fun and more fun and ice cream, lots and lots of ice cream.
So far Sub-Zero’s Fudge Crunch flavour from the Pirate (place not villain) is top of our charts, in a chocolate sprinkle, waffle cone of course. (https://iamsubzero.com). Most of our time, has been spent on, near or in the sea. Our house is neglected, as neglected as Alys’s cottage in my novel The House With Old Furniture:
‘…The cottage is a ruin, rooted and crumbling, the transformation is too crazy…’
(Shameless plug, sorry). Our home is finely dusted in sand from top to bottom, the bottom of the bath resembles the sea bed. I contemplated hoovering, but concluded that more sand was on its way – best wait – make a thorough job of it.
We’ve collected sand from here,
In the dunes drifting across the bathroom lurks the washing basket, which by anyone’s standard is overgrown, but who cares, there are dry towels all ready for tomorrow’s beach action. All nutrition is consumed in picnic form, although I confess to having sandwich block. After ham, jam, peanut butter, chocolate spread, peanut butter, cold chicken (a high scoring yuck factor from Small 2), marmalade and peanut butter again I’ve hit a wall. Cheese is a big NO, along with tomatoes, coleslaw and anything green. We’re hitting our five-a-day – five cakes a day that is. Life’s chaotic, disorganised and spontaneous particularly when it rains.
Things that normally happen are suffering from neglect: my writing has been mainly in the genre of backs-of scraps-of-paper, it’s going to take a herculean effort to decipher. I’ve attempted a few runs, (very slow and mostly to the ice cream kiosk), but really, who needs all that stress? I don’t, too busy perfecting our unicorn slime recipe (enclosed below for any poor parent who hasn’t yet experienced the joys of slime making).
But whilst we’ve been basking through the hols, squandering days and losing track of time, September has crept up, I’m ignoring it but it's here. September means getting back to normal, hunting down the alarm clock that’s somewhere in the tumble weed under the bed. It means new school shoes and evenings drawing in and dead leaves. The Ironmen are gathering, circling Tenby, you can’t move for VW vans and men in Lycra mooching up Narberth High Street on their rocket ship bikes. There’s something in the water (apart from Jellies).
If I’m honest I’m getting a bit fed up with losing my keys in the sand at the bottom of my bag. I’m beginning to miss normal. I’ve noticed a few plot ideas bubbling away at the back of my rusty brain and my trainers have actually dried out and no longer smell of cat-pea (that might be over-sharing). So (reluctantly) I declare us rested and ready to go again, at least until half term.
Unicorn slime recipe (just incase you're tempted)
Now the evenings are beginning to drawn in...