Surf's up.

Dragged, kicking and screaming from bed to take number one son to secret spot which was 'going off' at crack of dawn (well 9am, but that's early for an anticpated saturday lie-in). Wondered why we'd not gotten round to sorting out a driver's licence yet. Remembered it was to do with the extortionate insurance and rip-off lessons. Handy in these situations though. Must make a note to look into it when I've repaid my enormous career development loan and am earning a comfortable living as a bone fide writer. Ha!
Despite moaning and grumbling re rude awakening was a glorious morn. Sat on the rocks with banana and yoghurt, reading Coover's version of The Gingerbread House. Started writing my version of The Three Little Pigs when we got home.
Another trip to the beach with son and a daughter for a surf at five. Took a pounding as I remain a perpetual beginner. Don't recommend taking up the sport in your late 30's. Not easy.
Hoping to see my neglected man later for a pint, game of pool and a much needed bed session.
This study lark is a right relationship killer. No time for anything or anyone (sigh).