Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside… tra-la-la, tra-la-la. That’s my internal monologue each morning as I head down the beach. At least, that’s my usual routine, which has been somewhat disrupted of late by the fact that my mother is staying at my house. Why is that disruptive to my seaside-loving habits? Well, in short, my mother isn’t a fan of the beach. She never has been, and never will be. It’s anyone’s guess how she came to produce me, a card-carrying beach devotee.

 

Why is that a problem, you ask? Why can’t we just go our separate ways in the morning? That brings me to the issue at hand. I normally drive down to the beach in my little 4WD, which would make sense if you’d ever tried scaling the hill I live at the top of. Now, my mother always wants to go and do errands in the morning, and she claims she needs a car for that – arguably more so than I, since she’s older (never mind that it’s my car, not to mention my house she’s crashing).

 

I swear she’s actually just making up errands to prevent me from going to the beach – as in, her dislike of it is so strong that it’s beginning to manifest as disapproval of attitudes to the contrary. Last night she told me she had to take my car out today so she could scope out the mechanics near Frankston and weigh up if mine is really the best choice. What kind of an errand is that? I’m perfectly fine with my mechanic, and besides, there’s nothing wrong with my car – I like to make sure of that, so I can use it to get to the gosh danged beach!

I guess she noticed my reaction, because she then sweetened the deal by saying she’d get me a car air conditioning service while she was at it. My air con is working okay, but I’d be lying if I said I could remember when I last had it looked at, so I had to agree. Bested in wits by my mother again! I’m not going to the beach today.