Yesterday I decided that as it was sunny, we should head to the seaside. Emily has never been to the seaside - even in Malta, we've kept to pools so far. And as I don't want her only experience of sea to be in Malta (although it is by far the ideal sea experience, more on this later), I wanted to take her to the seaside here too, and in the process introduce her to sand.
Why exactly I wanted to do this when I hate sand so passionately
(even Maltese sand, that doesn't fly all over the place), I will never fully comprehend.
So we got our things together and headed out. We decided to go to
Camber Sands as
Nataliya had recently mentioned it as being very beautiful. The drive there itself was beautiful, Emily slept part of the way and David and I could have a relaxed chat while enjoying the scenery.
Twenty minutes away, it started raining. I remained optimistic. Here in England, you could technically drive through four different seasons in twenty minutes (ok, I exaggerate, but you get the idea), and the rain had in fact stopped when we got to Camber Sands but the wind... oh, the wind. Now I know that it is probably rare for it not to be windy in Camber, or in fact on British beaches in general. But there wasn't much that could have prepared me for
that amount of wind.
Upon reaching the beach, we decided within seconds to rent a wind breaker. We settled down, comfortably protected from the wind and watched Emily walk around in fascination. She hated the feel of the sand (not only me then) but was happy simply walking around on it.
Camber Sands truly is beautiful. Vast lengths of beach, as far as the eye can see.
No more than fifteen minutes later, the wind got even worse and within seconds, it was in Emily's sandwich, her drink, our bags, my belly button, slapping us across the face. Still, we stood brave.
...Until David and I looked at each other and somewhere in that look we realised we were both thinking the same thing: "I hate this."
We packed up and left.
Those of you who know me well will know there are many things that annoy me about Malta, but in this case, I can't think of anything better than a hot,
rocky, Maltese beach. The Mediterranean in me doesn't comprehend going to the beach to cower behind a wind breaker. Or needing to cover a baby up lest she get stung by vicious, flying sand. The Mediterranean in me certainly doesn't understand sea not being crystal clear, or needing to rinse the mud splatter off my legs after wading through shallow water.
I guess we'll be saving visits to the seaside for Malta from now on. But boy did I get teased by David for being the one to insist on going to the seaside yesterday! ;)
