I love the sea. In fact I am one of those people who can happily swim out to sea with nothing in the distance and always have the urge to keep on going, perhaps in the hope that I will one day reach Treasure island. I did this once in Thailand on what became later known as the Tsunami beach. I remember that the sea was so calm I just kept on swimming out but my desire for another Thai Green Curry became greater than my desire to find an island so I came back.
I have now had two near disastrous experiences in the sea and now I have lost that urge to swim into nothing without stopping.
This year in Spain with the lovely family Foxwells it became the daily ritual to jump the waves with one child in each hand. This was usually F's job and the kids loved it for he was extra brave and went in the sea just that little bit further than I would. They were surfing beaches after all. This particular day The F decides to do big walking tour up the nearest mountain so said children pick on nearest willing adult which was me. The water was up to my thighs.......honest. Then out of nowhere I was adrift with nothing beneath me and a child in each hand and rapidly being pulled away from the beach. Whoops! What now. Never quite been in a situation like that before and had visions of going back to the beach and having to explain to M that I just mislaid her daughter. However Baywatch Spain was on alert and luckily three very tanned, beautiful lifeguards were already entering the sea to tell people to get out because it was dangerous. I was shouting to the Elf to keep swimming but she looked totally embarrassed and just replied,' How can I swim if you are grabbing onto my arm?' Fair point.
The Elf became even more embarrassed as I got scared enough to scream for gorgeous Baywatch lifeguard who responded like in the movies with orange lifebelts and muscles any man would die for. Safely back on the beach The Elf and A both declare at the same time," I'm not going in the sea with you again.....when's F coming back?" and I'm left to tell the story to which I get a few grunts.
It seems in life that telling the story afterwards never has quite the same impact as the event itself.