As some of you may be aware, today is a Bank Holiday here, on the greener, more civilised island.
As the weather has been unseasonably bright and sunny, Mrs Mad4City, donned her bathing suit and declared that we would load up the automobile with appropriate paraphernalia, strap in MiniMad4City and repair to the seaside; to partake of the waters, there, as the ordinary people are won't to do, apparently.
I imagined it to be a jolly adventure. So much so, that I gave Perkins the half day and drove the Bentley myself. We made excellent time and arrived at Lahinch, Co Clare at two o clock in the pm. Without any great ado, we found a spot on the beach, with our backs to the wall, that was downwind from some of the more repugnant oiks afoot and settled in for an afternoon of sea, sand and oxygen rich air.
Some chance!
When first I noticed it, I reasoned that I was surely mistaken and that no confounded fool of a civil servant could so horribly have mismanaged such a fundamental aspect of the day that was in it.
But no! Not a bit of it! Truly I had underestimated the average local government alickadoo's supreme capacity to make a complete dog's dinner of even the simplest of tasks.
You see, like a Canutian nightmare, the relentless tide washed upon our carefully chosen perch with alarming speed; completely destroying my child's sand castles in the process, before I'd even had a chance to photograph them. Worse was to follow, when I discovered that my beloved, bespoke Aran gansey (lovingly prepared by my mother in law and presented some nine Christmases ago) was also ruined. I'd only packed the blessed thing because of my delicate nature!
So I ask of you, what incompetent arranges an oncoming tide at two thirty on a Bank Holiday Monday???
Rest assured, I shall be writing a stiff letter to the buffoon's superiors at Clare County Council, in the morning. I shall need until at least then to compose myself, such is my upset at the moment. Can any of you even begin to imagine my outrage, I wonder?
No, you can't, can you?
That's because you are still thinking about my wife in her bathing suit, isn't it?
Perverts, the lot of you.
You disgust me.
As the weather has been unseasonably bright and sunny, Mrs Mad4City, donned her bathing suit and declared that we would load up the automobile with appropriate paraphernalia, strap in MiniMad4City and repair to the seaside; to partake of the waters, there, as the ordinary people are won't to do, apparently.
I imagined it to be a jolly adventure. So much so, that I gave Perkins the half day and drove the Bentley myself. We made excellent time and arrived at Lahinch, Co Clare at two o clock in the pm. Without any great ado, we found a spot on the beach, with our backs to the wall, that was downwind from some of the more repugnant oiks afoot and settled in for an afternoon of sea, sand and oxygen rich air.
Some chance!
When first I noticed it, I reasoned that I was surely mistaken and that no confounded fool of a civil servant could so horribly have mismanaged such a fundamental aspect of the day that was in it.
But no! Not a bit of it! Truly I had underestimated the average local government alickadoo's supreme capacity to make a complete dog's dinner of even the simplest of tasks.
You see, like a Canutian nightmare, the relentless tide washed upon our carefully chosen perch with alarming speed; completely destroying my child's sand castles in the process, before I'd even had a chance to photograph them. Worse was to follow, when I discovered that my beloved, bespoke Aran gansey (lovingly prepared by my mother in law and presented some nine Christmases ago) was also ruined. I'd only packed the blessed thing because of my delicate nature!
So I ask of you, what incompetent arranges an oncoming tide at two thirty on a Bank Holiday Monday???
Rest assured, I shall be writing a stiff letter to the buffoon's superiors at Clare County Council, in the morning. I shall need until at least then to compose myself, such is my upset at the moment. Can any of you even begin to imagine my outrage, I wonder?
No, you can't, can you?
That's because you are still thinking about my wife in her bathing suit, isn't it?
Perverts, the lot of you.
You disgust me.
