First day, (well you can’t count the twelve-hour travel day, can you?) and the weather has been exceptionally nice. So we hit the beach.
It’s been warm enough to wear our bathing suits. Cold enough to make our nipples stand to attention.
And we’ve loved every minute of it.
Even the bit when the two middle ones got all possessive over a stick and ended up shouting and throwing sand and sea water in each others faces.
Up to the bit when, as I dozed at the table over a game of ludo, and my husband dozed on the sofa, one of the scarily awake kids (does the sea air only knock out pre-forties grown ups?) smashed my wine glass, sending shattered fragments in every direction. One tiny shard actually managed to skim past my hand cutting it on its journey.
I sat slightly taken aback at the sheer surprise as my blood trickled.
And somewhat sorrowful.
It was the last drop of wine.