Sandy Crevices'R'us

The call had gone out for worthy adversaries to attend seafront location "Canoe Lake Splashpark, you know, the bit where you can picnic, sorta elevenish". Well, this is me all over, for I am on hols!
Cycling with all our worldly goods upon his back (and having made sure the front door was shut this time), we stopped off to berate the prune-faced old woman at the laundrette. She has repeatedly denied losing Jofs' work shirt, and also refused to believe that another time, they had given us someone else's shirt. This time was different, as we proffered the Shirt of Unknown Derivation emblazoned with the tell-tale motif "Portsmouth University Humanities Department Admissions Team", because even she knew we didn't work there.
In such radiant sunlight I need sunglasses. So we cycled to Specsavers in Southsea who sent us over the road to Superdrug, who sold me some and I looked like the Terminator which is all I've ever wanted really.
Found Ben and Elizabeth and Erin (make sure you pronounce it Erinn, not Erran) at the Bench of Destiny. We made dens under the logs (wind blew the groundsheets away) and picnicked on the grassy knolls (chased away by 3rd Gunman) and met some schoolfriends.
The modern age of public health has led to an exercise station over by the sea road. So we all pushed and pulled and lifted and clanged and generally monopolized it for ages until one amongst our number noticed the swan-boats on Canoe Lake. It's £7 for 20 minutes, but with 5 of us that's practically cheep (aha) at half the price. So we chose some pedallers, a steerer and 2 passengers and set off by going in little circles due to arguing. When you have 4 children in 1 boat you have 7 factions and none will agree, the pedallers pedal in unrelated directions, the ones at the front cry "Forward!" and the ones behind cry "Back!" so it was a 20-minute shout-a-thon but we all swapped places many times and all got to sit everywhere at least twice. We collided many times with various other swan-ships, sometimes deliberately, and once Ben got on steering duty we actually got somewhere.
I had refused to pedal because they weren't apologizing to me and they weren't doing it properly and they were all shouting at me and then Bud heaved me out of the driving seat and took over. There's just nowhere to hide and cry in a sea-bound plastic swan of epic proportions so I did my best which was a 45-minute Level 7 sulk, my swansong for that voyage.
Eventually I came around, but I'd missed the choccie brownies and strawberries by then. Still, we played football and pretended not to watch the canoodling teenagers and rolled each other up in Bens' groundsheet and had ice creams and all went to the beach where we threw rocks and got sockless and paddled like the true Puddlers we are.
It was somewhat cold but we were strong, they laughed when I contrived to fall in and we all got sandy cracks and Ben had a wee in the sea and the girls giggled so I did it too. We walked back to base camp like a load of zombies (or like an over-used sailor man) and did the zombie chicken dance and then we weren't so cold.
One by one we left (I did 4 1/2 hours there) and after finishing the ice cream from the freezer I hit swingpark but there was nobody I knew. I strutted around helping 5 year-olds climb the rocks and boy O boy I was desperately cool in my Terminator glasses, and just think, none of those kids knew I was a secret infiltration robo-agent.
A splendid day for Vitamin D, friends and exercise, albeit punctuated by a massive hissy fit.