I sat down to write and there was a bag of ready mix in my shorts.
This is one of the perils of a trip to the seaside. The sun was glorious, the air warm and the sea above freezing.
We sat on the beach. Which is precisely the point where the sand demons start depositing their mates into your socks, shoes and… pants.
Listen carefully, you’ll hear them laughing.
And when you get home? Sand falls out of your shoe. Your socks weigh a metric tonne — each.
And sitting down?
That’s like you’ve had a bath in gravel.