Sunday, 13 January 2013

Would you like sand with that?

So, sand. 

Look at it.  Treacherous stuff isn't it? And as for the happy child with the boogie needs to be stopped. 
It's just so sandy.  

Commonly found on the beach.  In vast quantities.   And now, by popular demand (and a strong aversion to foot cleaning), in our holiday house. 

Currently found in every crack and crevice of every child in my possession, every corner of our um…house/apartment thing. 
Another bespoke fortress.  About my 5th I think.  Made of...?
I sweep up.  I sweep it into a corner.  Vast piles of the stuff. The floor is clean for ten minutes.  Then someone walks through with sandy thongs on and it’s back to square one.

There are mini beaches in the corner of each shower recess.  The towels are thick with it. 

And the other day when I got royally, totally, comprehensively dumped (triple somersaulted) by a wild series of waves at Elizabeth Beach (normally the most peaceful beach in Australia), I had sand EVERYWHERE.  It’s still in my ears.

And the beds!  Oh the beds! I brush and brush and brush and it never gets any better. 

I tried making the kids hold their feet out to me so I could brush them off before going to bed.  But their feet were so black and filthy I gave up and instigated a pre-bed foot washing procedure, which I promptly forgot to enforce..  And Issy has taken to crawling into bed quietly and flaking out  before I even notice so her bed is like the Sahara. 

Defeated by my family, I continued to brush off my own feet before putting them into my own bed.  This at least keeps my side semi pristine.  Mike doesn’t, and his sand keeps migrating.  Thank goodness, after a week, our apartment was serviced and we got new sheets.  Talk about excitement.  The floors and beds were sand free for, maybe 10 minutes before someone walked in with sandy feet and walked across one of the kids beds (crammed together in one room) to get something, leaving a trail of dirty little footprints. 
There is no close up, but I can attest to the sandiness of those feet (still in thongs!). 
Note to self: you are on holidays, get over it. 

As a kid, crunchy sheets were how you slept on your summer holiday.  Especially while camping, or anywhere near a beach (we seldom did anything else).  As an adult, clean sheets without sand are something you take for granted, and like the proverbial princess and her pea, we get a bit fussier about our sleeping conditions and struggle to sleep if they are not quite right.   

Does anyone else bring their own pillows from home?  We have latex ones, which travel with us everywhere we go, except on planes.  First world nightmares we are.  

Sand or no sand, it's been a totally marvellous holiday.