Adversity makes for more interesting reading

Be honest with me, reader, do you ever look at the pictures that people post on Facebook of their wonderful holidays or blissful days out, and just think - 'Oh, sod off!' Particularly if you are having a cruddy day, yourself. It is partly the fault of social media, we tend to put up the edited highlights of our lives, cherry pick the photos and neglect to mention the crippling diarrhoea that had the whole family in its grips on day two of the holiday. (unless you are Billy Connolly and get a whole stand-up routine out of it). Don't worry, this isn't one of those, 'Isn't my life wonderful' pieces, this, instead is a catalogue of mild mishaps, accidents and calamities that happened on a family day trip on one day - today in fact. People seem to like lists (I'm very fond of them myself) and they do seem to be easier to read, so I'm doing this in list form.

1) We set forth, with joy in our hearts, to visit Arundel Castle (although perhaps the joy thing was just me - I love castles). Only to find when we got there that the castle is closed on Mondays. Never mind, Arundel is a charming little place, crammed with antique shops and second hand book shops and old fashioned sweet shops where they weigh out the sweets. (none of which we could be bothered to venture into with the kids). We stopped for lunch in a coffee shop, had some very nice cake, spent a surprisingly large amount of money and decided to go to Littlehampton instead, which was just round the corner.

2) Got to Littlehampton, went down onto the beach. Buffeted by bracing winds but the kids seemed to like it - drawing pictures in the sand etc.. Kids went looking for rock pools, younger daughter fell over in the sea and got soaked from head to foot. We did NOT have a change of clothes for her, so after much dithering, decided to walk into to town, find a cheap clothes shop and buy her a tracksuit or similar. Halfway to town, had to double back because older daughter needed a poo. Half an hour later, walked into town again.

3) After a fruitless trip to Lidl, eventually found suitable clothes in another shop, bought replacement clothes and as we were leaving the shop noticed that it was absolutely chucking it down outside. Put rain cover on pushcahir. After some tedious wrangling, persuaded older daughter to put her hood up, put my hood up and ran across the square with her. This was where everything seemed to turn into a bizarre cine film from the 1970s. I was holding my daughter's hand and I felt her slipping over, I held on harder and tried to pull her up, but instead of keeping her upright I fell down with her. I think I somersaulted over her and landed slap, bang on my face. Is there anything quite so exquisitely painful as slapping your forehead, nose, mouth and chin against concrete? Everything burned and my nose burst open. I righted myself, looked round to check on my daughter (who was fine) then proceeded to cry, noisy, embarrassing tears from the pain and the shock. (I think I might have also uttered an expletive). Everything speeded up here, my other half hurried over, asked someone if they were all right (I assumed he was talking to my daughter as we tend to ignore each other's physical complaints since we've had kids; 'you've got dengue fever, never mind, man-up and give the kids a bath!') He was actually talking to me though, as he helped me up he said - 'you're really bleeding!' He then (out of all concern but more stridently than he realised) came at me with a tissue and I felt like my nose had burst afresh! All this time it was still chucking it down with rain, my older daughter had started crying, more at the sight of my blood, we think, and there was a dispassionate audience huddled under a shelter at the edge of the square. I was mortified and scurried into a corner where my husband passed me tissue after tissue and it felt like the blood would never stop. (I've never had a nosebleed before, so forgive me if this all sounds a bit diva-ish) Amongst all of this a kind woman (perhaps not all the spectators were as uncaring as it first seemed) came up to me with a wad of tissues. I hope I thanked her, I think I did.
'Do you think my nose is broken?' I asked the old man.
'I don't know.' He replied. 'Does it hurt?'
It was more numb than painful and nothing hurt more than my wounded pride.
A broken nose is all my (already asymmetrical) face needs, I thought, bitterly.
Anyway, we repaired to a pub where I changed the younger daughter into her new, dry clothes. And I had hot tea and a brandy - I don't care if there is no scientific proof that brandy helps with shock or that people mock soap opera characters for offering tea in times of distress, both things helped me.
On the way home my older daughter said to me: 'I fell over in a puddle.'
'Never mind', I said, 'I bust my nose open'. (I know I shouldn't, I know I should have played it down but I couldn't help it).
'And I fell over in the sea', the younger one piped up.
We laughed!