The walk along the sea front to the town is like wandering up the yellow brick road; except of course it’s not yellow, nor made of bricks and it is a path - anyway, there is, as my granny used to say, a view around every bend. There may also be a wizard at the end as we heard “See My Baby Jive” blaring out of a tapas bar as we walked past.
Edit: forgot the number bit - a silky smooth 5.0 on the wonder wheel.
Playa Flamingo is one of a very few places with sand on this volcanic wasteland. Green things mainly seem to exist in gardens and even then most of them bite you if you wander near and the ground is beneath your feet, the ground remains of the last time the volcano decided to get all petulant and moody.
Anyhow, Playa Flamingo; after a careful 20 milli second scan of the sandy paradise, Little Miss Pamplemousse declared, “I can’t see the Flaminogos. Where are they? Flamingos are pink, I should be able to see the Flamingos. I can’t see them anywhere.”
So, we settled upon hunting for the DoDo to the sound of The Walrus and The Carpenter and a creature hunt amongst the rocks at the end of the beach. Chaos and Mayhem currently detest any situation where sand meets flesh, and are not backwards in in voicing protests, so the swimming shoes that they were wearing remained firmly on their feet.
“Tea” .....”hot”..... “tea”....hot”.
“Do you like tea?”
“Yeh!”
The twins have taken a liking to tea - Mrs Miggins has lots of tea, Yorkshire, decaf.
They don’t mind sharing so you do get to drink some of it yourself; but you must share - and “me next”, “Alice next” instructions must be followed.
It’s a good game once you get used to a small hand testing the temperature of the tea mug every nano second to the word “hot” until it cools down enough.
Have a great day if you can.
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