We spent the last couple of hours of the Little Welsh Boys’ visit on the beach. Where else?
OK, so it wasn’t
the brightest of days, weather-wise, but it was just perfect for roaming the beach in the search of dinosaur teeth; for competitions to see who could hurl stones into the sea the furthest; for clambering over the rocks and pretending to be climbing Everest.
Not to mention lunch in the lovely Sea Lane Cafe where Mr B (in his role as Grandad) managed to persuade a couple already seated and awaiting their meal that they would much prefer a table by the window, thereby securing one of the few tables large enough
to accommodate the seven of us. This is one of the things I admire about Mr B; unlike me, he is never afraid to ask.
It took us ages to get out of the house because
first of all the car had to be packed up – which in turn involved what My Boy called “hoovering up” all their belongings which were spread around every room in the house. When I go to stay with people, I try to keep most of my possessions
in one place (usually my suitcase) but even then I have been known (on many occasions) to leave important items behind. The worst occasion was when I left my handbag at the Youngest of the Darling Daughter’s home. Given the fact that my handbag
is like Mary Poppins’ carpet bag – a seemingly bottomless receptacle for objects both useful and totally useless – it cost a fortune to post it back to me.
I decided that I would probably be more hindrance than help with the hoovering up, so I gave myself the pleasurable task of keeping the boys amused. We played Tummy-ache (Morgan won, to his great joy. I am not convinced he knew what winning meant
but we kept asking him: “Who won the game?” for the sheer pleasure of hearing him say: “Morgan!”) James and I had a head to head battle over My Dog Has Fleas –he won. He told me about another similar game which apparently
is called “Doggy Doos.” No, you really, really don’t want to know.
Next the boys decided they were going to set up restaurants. You have
to admit they are ambitious beyond their years. Sam called his restaurant “Mega Food” while James’ establishment was called “Nosh”. Both boys were most concerned that the food served up from their imaginary kitchens
passed the mandatory tests so I was required to play the part of an Environmental Health Officer. My job: to inspect and taste and proclaim that each restaurant had passed the test.
There didn’t appear to be a lot of actual cooking going on in either restaurant; both boys were much more concerned with producing eye-catching menus. “Passed tests” reads the proud notice on the front of Mega Food’s
menu while Nosh boasts two stars on its menu cover, intended to convey the same message to discerning diners. Sam’s extensive menu runs to two pages and includes ham and cheese sandwiches, strawberry flan, chocolate biscuits and salmon spread.
“Please send in pictures of your pets,” he has written, somewhat incongruously in my opinion, on page three. James’s writing is much larger than Sam’s so his menu is restricted to four main courses and four puddings, this being
all he has room for. Hopefully his customers will be happy with a choice of sausage, onion, potato or grapes for a main course and cake, banana, fruit or flan for pudding. We can only hope that the owner of “Nosh” doesn’t find himself
reported to Trading Standards for blatant misrepresentation...
There is nothing quite like being admitted, even for just a short time, into a child’s imaginary
world. I have absolutely no idea where the boys’ flights of fancy come from. Whether it’s dinosaur teeth on the beach or their culinary challenge to Heston Blumenthal – it’s best just to go with the flow, I find.
Which is both a pleasure and a privilege.