I know a lot of kids must write to you about school, teachers, etc., etc.. You're probably bored out of your mind of the same nonsense again and again, so, let's fast-forward to the beginning of fun, freedom and 99 cones. Summer.
It all kicked off with an hour-long drive from Castlebar to Enniscrone, Co. Sligo and a claustrophobic car carrying about two tons of luggage and a moaning brother. That part, not exactly what I hoped for, but it gets better. Trust me.
As soon as we got to Enniscrone Beach, I hastily shoved my swimming togs on and jumped into the cool relief of the sparkling, blue sea. We had great fun shoving and dunking each other in the water and then we had a mad game of piggy-back rides on the shore. When we got home, we showered, ate dinner and went straight up to bed.
Days followed, some
wet and windy, some sunny and humid but one day storms were brewing as
if Zeus, Lord of the Sky, himself was making soup for everyone on Mount
Olympus. (My own proverb.) We were so disappointed as it was a great day
for surfing but as you must know, Mum wouldn't let us go. Instead, we
had to stay inside and watch daytime T.V. which bored me so as daytime
T.V. is appalling. I tried to read a book but the words just flitted around
the page. After a while, I couldn't stand it anymore so I went surfing
with my cousins.
We had a blast, surfing
the waves, but soon after the waves were bashing against our boards and
filling our mouths with salty water. We were tired and hungry so we decided
to head home. But where was home? We were so far up the beach that we
could barely make out the seaweed baths, near the beach and our holiday
home. I started to panic but if life (and training to be a lifeguard!)
has ever taught me anything it's NOT TO PANIC.
Everything is so much easier when everyone around you is calm. We swam and swam and eventually made it to shore but we were so exhausted as the current had been so strong, pulling us out to sea. We were all a bit shaky but nothing a bit of my dad's homemade lasagne couldn't fix.
The following day the beach idea still wasn't so hot on our minds, so we went pier-jumping instead. I know, pier-jumping, sounds really scary, doesn't it? But, it's not at all, honestly. The anticipation is amazing but the moment you zip through the icy Atlantic waters you regret ever jumping the pier, but even that doesn't stop me from shivering up the seaweed covered, stone steps and doing it all over again.
Maybe pier-jumping wasn't such a great idea after all. Half my family was up all night with a tummy bug caused from about 100 belly-flops into the treacherous ocean waves . It was really bad. So bad that my cousin got sick all over my bed. Thanks, Louise, bet you aimed for it.
The next day, we slept in,(as of being up all night long) so, my crazy auntie made us go golfing with her when we eventually woke up. Not my idea of fun. It was so tiring walking around the course, beads of perspiration sliding down my neck as the sun shone down on us.
When I got home I
raced down to the beach because it was our last day in Enniscrone, my
favourite place in the whole world. I sat on the fine sand and let it
fall through my fingers, treasuring the smell of the sea that sadly I
would forget in days to come. I love my hometown Castlebar but it's nice
to get away from all the traffic and concrete buildings and step into
the wonderful world of sun, sand and ice cream vans. Summer 2010 has been
amazing and I can't wait for next year.