|Crocodile starboard side, Captain.......|
To risk sounding like a right flash so-and-so . . .
. . . we're just back from the Marina.
This isn't a boast, believe me.
It's not as impressive as it sounds: a marina it might be, Monte Carlo it ain't.
I've mentioned before that our home is at the coast and that The B&G are interested in all matters maritime.
The G in particular has a thing about boats at this moment in time.
Hence our outing to the marina following the latest instalment of our morning music group.
The B&G both like to explore the car park for boats (as certain household members call it), perusing craft of all kind, casting a curious eye over the gnarled old sea dogs and fantasising about ocean adventures.
I did a little fantasising myself, having discovered several boats displaying 'For Sale' signs.
Testing the water, if you'll pardon the pun, I asked the B&G if they'd like me to purchase a modest vessel for our own use.
The G almost nodded her head off, but The B, having been in quite good fettle up to that point, looked, all of a sudden, in considerable discomfort.
I enquired as to the issue and he started to squirm.
"I don't want a boat," he squealed.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because a crocodile might come along and eat it while we're sailing on it," he replied, turning and hotfooting it back to the car.
I hadn't realised the crocodiles had become so prevalent around here.
Come to think of it, perhaps buying a boat isn't such a good idea after all.