Monday, 4 June 2007


This is a truly horrible day. All day long Shark, Squirrel and Tiger argue. They argue and argue, and then argue some more. They argue over things like who was first to get up, then who was first to wake up, then who was first to open the door to the caravan so they could stand on the top step, hang on to the door frame, and block the exit. Then they argue over the dolphin bucket, and who gets the best picnic basket when they are all identical. They argue over who will get mummy the map because she is going to see the 3,500 year old Dover Boat and doesn't care if anyone else is coming or not, and then they argue about who gets in the car first, because it's never fair and it's always Shark who gets everything first. On the way to the Dover Boat I have to put up with screams, kicks to the back of my seat, the sounds of slapping and wailing and the chants of 'Nincompoop baby! Nincompoop baby!' from Tiger to Shark, who responds by screaming out her lungs. If I attempt to break up the fights by threatening to stop the car because I simply cannot drive in the pit of hell any longer, then Tiger screams she hates Shark, she hates me, and Shark screams back that she hates me, she hates Squirrel, Tiger and the universe and what is more she does not care if she never sees the poopy Dover Boat. When I pull in to a layby to put my hands over my ears Squirrel shouts she is leaving this family. At this rate, matey, not before me.

When we get to Dover a very lovely lady with bright blue mascara shows us to the Dover Boat museum. By this time the kids are all silent and sullen, foot dragging, red-eyed and scowling. I apologise, bright blue mascara lady, for suggesting I'd come to Dover to dump them.

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