Nothing says summer like a bunch of half-naked children screaming and vomiting all over the sand.
Yup, it’s another rant post.
I took a small break from blogging so I now have a bunch lined up to churn out over the next few weeks. Not that I was doing anything productive with my time to prevent me from blogging, we just happened to have a week of nice weather here in Ireland.
It seems we Irish can’t deal with any sort of weather that isn’t slightly wet or that’s outside the temperature range of 10 – 17 degrees.
Small bit of snow, the whole country shuts down. Bit of sun and nobody can function. So I spent my days out in the sun, barley tanning myself, afraid for my life I might get burnt by this strange fiery creature in the sky.
I felt guilty if I didn’t spend every waking moment out in the sun, even when I really didn’t want to be. There is one thing we Irish are good at, and that’s feeling guilty.
So I sat outside slowly crisping up. Visited the beach every evening and froze to death in a wind that felt like ice, but hey, it was sunny! Can’t waste that sun!
One particular evening that I ended up at the beach the freezing ice wind had gone, and the beach-goers, sun-tanners and BBQers were out in packs.
Every post-teenage boy with a large-exhausted car was out, half-dressed and covered in oil, car thumping down the road propelled by the power of bad music alone.
Tweenagers and Teenie Boppers tottered around in cheap triangles and strings of dangerously patterned cloth, short shorts so short it would make your eyes water.
I battled my way down to the water’s edge and took in the view, foam on the waves, children splashing in the water, gentle breeze lifting the sea air…
And the rancid smell of sewage.
I think I physically stumbled when it hit me, where the hell was that smell coming from…
Looked around, couldn’t see any rubbish around, looked back at the sea.
What I thought was sea-foam was sewage in the water. Sewage. And children were playing in it.
What? Am I seriously looking at this? There are easily over a hundred people here, can nobody else smell, never mind see the sewage in the water?
I took another look around and spied a woman tip her magazine down briefly to look at her children in the water, then quickly flipped it back up.
As I ranted about in Bus-Time Banter #3- Leopard Print and Stilettos, I try not to judge people by their appearance but their actions.
This woman was every shade of trashy you could imagine, but then again, the wholesome loving motherly looking woman beside her, was also letting her kids swim in it.
I do believe that some people should have to sit classes before they have kids. Not everyone, not even most people, but clearly somewhere in the world, specifically the stretch of beach in Courtown, there are more than enough people to hold a midweek parenting class for.
If the sea is filled with sewage, do you:
- Tut at the disgraceful upkeep of the beach and walk away.
- Let your kids play in he sewage, swallow it and vomit all over the sand.
I have dealt with the likes in Courtown before. People from Dublin flock here every summer, my family included. However, some seem to act as if they were born and reared here, and act like utter ignorant pigs.
After a casual mud fight in the forest with my friends, we walked back through the village, well aware but ignoring the muck that covered us from tits to toes.
Passing a corner shop a child smeared in ice cream pointed at us, “Ma, why are those girls all dirty?”
Up strode a woman wearing a dress that would have been white if her fake tan hadn’t turned it terracotta, and was so small she had four breasts bulging out.
Platinum blonde hair, white glossy sunglasses and a face like a sun-slapped arse.
“Because hun, everything in the countryside is dirty.”
Wow, looks, style and a winning personality? What a lovely lady.