The Fight

The Fight

It’s always nicer when it isn’t you.

There you are. Enjoying a meal out with friends in a restaurant with kids, in a foreign land and then the atmosphere changes.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, but things become chilly. The wife gets up after her meal and pretends to be busying herself with the kids larking about on the beach. The husband busied himself clearing his plate and that of his daughters, head down, not speaking.

This is what happened to us, one day on holiday. Then it was time to go home. A relaxing wander down the boulevard from the beach to the rides, the “bouncy thing” the two girls are desperate to have a go on. We headed off to our car to dump an excess bag, they wandered to theirs with our daughter and theirs to do the same.

We crossed the road with The Monster to meet them, but they seemed to be spending an awful lot of time at their car. So we headed into the little fair ground, found out the cost of the Bungee Trampoline and purchased the tickets for the girls in readiness.

Then we waited. Waited some more.

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Pregnancy Journal

Anglesey 2013