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British beach holidays. The weather is warm enough for sunburn, the rain encourages one to do something other than just lie on the sand, and the fish and chips are nearly always superb.

I’m not cross at all; this is merely an attempt at a mobile-created blog.

Well now, I am quite cross now. I have been told not to climb this rock:The rock you shouldn't climb

Like the well behaved chap I am, I obeyed and removed myself – and my 8 year old daughter – from the rock. About 20 minutes later she asked me why we weren’t allowed to climb. This stumped me … exactly as much as the request/order to not climb it.
Later on I spotted another couple of life-guard-types. I strode on up, and politely enquired as to the reasons behind not letting folk climb it; my wife wondered if there was a wildlife preservation order for nest birds, I checked with the uniformed people:
“we’re not the fun police”, said he, “you are allowed to climb, we’re just supposed to point out the risks.”
Aggggggggggh. How annoying, the tide had now come in a bit more and we were due to leave shortly. I was now unable to climb, having been (sort of) given permission, but not able to do so for other reasons. I remain somewhat perturbed.

I hope this is the most bland post I will ever write. Sorry.

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