Our Seaside themed 'Little Buoy Blue Collection'.
I was never too happy about growing up. When all my friends were trying desperately to look older than their years – wearing the latest fashions and experimenting with makeup (badly) – I was quite happy pottering around in my sister’s hand-me-downs trying to ignore the inevitable. I had no desire to wander around the streets aimlessly, or rather appearing aimless whilst ‘casually’ bumping into certain boys. I would much rather dance around in my bedroom to the top 40. I just wanted to keep on being 12 thank you very much. However, time and some really complicated laws of physics meant that I very reluctantly had to accept this could not be.
Now a married mother-of-two, you’d think I’d have long surrendered to the ageing process and am relishing in my ‘elder’ status. Well I actually thought I was until a recent holiday to Scotland. The men had gone fishing so my cousin and I, plus our four children, set off for the beach. We had the windbreak, the chairs, the rug, two hefty beach bags, a rucksack each, the buckets and spades, the football, the frisbee, the barbecue, a raft of food and thankfully, some wine. As the children skipped along happily and we trundled behind, laden like donkeys, I once again harked after my carefree youth. It was as if no time had passed between then and now and I had hastily been thrust into the adult world. “How did this happen”, I grumbled, as the circulation in my fingers reached critical. Now I might be wrong, but I distinctly remember my own mum, headscarf and all, relishing in the food rationing, towel distribution and organisation of endless dry outfits required during a day at the beach. She happily guarded that big orange cool box like she had the crown jewels stashed inside it. She never grumbled, just sat amongst the piles of paraphernalia as she dealt with our demands before we ran off into the sea, chucking our crusts at her as we went. Now here was I, a few decades later awkwardly fielding frisbees, balls and spades whilst dishing out butties and crisps like I was auditioning for multi-tasker of the year. The rug lay unruffled and the wine untouched as my cousin and I charged about the place. “I need a wee”, or worse “I need a poo” would always put a spanner in the works if we dared sit down. I couldn’t help but feel this was not my natural calling. How I longed to be on the other side of the cool box, surprised by what was in my sandwiches and what flavour crisps would be handed to me as I sat wrapped in my fluffy towel (that someone else had carried).
Scotland in a heatwave is not to be sniffed at. Deserted white beaches, sparkling turquoise seas, how lucky? you might say. I know, but there was no disguising my glee when I woke up the next day to good old driving rain. Bring on the downpour!
Why not check out some of our beach themed items like our our Boat House Play House and matching accessories or ourWhale Watching Glow in the Dark Rug.