A L'eau! C'est L'heure! *

So yesterday the Solent area was officially the hottest in the UK at 30°C. No wonder I couldn't sleep last night, I shall sleepwalk my way through my last day of school zombie-fashion (no change there).
We didn't exactly do a lot of work. The only true lesson we had was an instruction not to use the blow-up globe as a beach volleyball. I brought home even more craft goodies and also Pop's PE kit so we delivered it to her house. One of the things we got were red and yellow footballers' cards so on the way home I red-carded everyone we met, several dogs and most of the trees in the park.
It's as hot as Beelzebub's armpit out there so after a pork pie I went right back out again and challenged some footballers to accept me as their referee. I postured and carded and eventually gave up and took LittleMax back to mine for some Lego.
We sweated our way up the road to sailing. I had promised Erin that I would be her partner in the instructor-less outing but totally reneged and blew her out to join an all-boy crew. I expect I shall pay for this later.
She had to make do with some older, more experienced sailors. Anyway, having built our boats from scratch, we sailed off with barely a hint of trouble. OK, we were slow at first and Ben commandeered the tiller but gradually we actually got the hang of it and were soon working as a team. Team Boy was: Ben, Myself, Oscar and James.
We pootled up and down like pros but then saw Erin. She was Tiller-girl of her ship and we decided to chase her, a moving target. She collided with someone else and we collided with her, we may say poo-poo to her face but really we just want to bump hulls, mmm.
Anyway, once the Tudor Sailing Club next door had occupied the area with their flash sails and groovy dinghies, we swanned off down the lake and practically reached France and joined the French Navy before the hooter went.
Ben was maybe messing a little and fell in. James lifted him out. Oscar tried it. I tried it but couldn't get back in. Ben jumped in to help me. Then as if by accident we all fell in and the man in the RIB shouted at us to get back in the boat.
I was last out of the changing room again because of helicopter parenting. In the past everything has been done for me, I just had to stand there. It doesn't seem to work when the bulk of the PuddleParents are gossiping outside.
But Jof had come to meet us. Instead of driving home, we cycled to the Harvester and had pig-out food. We cycled home at 10pm in the dark without lights which is illegal but we know the back roads and avoided the fuzz.
* As you know, this is the motto of the French Navy (also known as the Grenouillettes, always there when they need us) which demonstrates their readiness for brave aqueous action at the drop of a beret - 'To the water! The time has come!'