"They" Made Me Wet

I promised Melissa we would take her to the fair tonight, to get her out of her mum and dad's hair for a while. Her mum has come home early with the baby. Me, I would have stayed in as long as possible. We planned to do the shopping on the way back so M was relieved that there was someone else to pull the trolley (she wont normally walk with me when I pull it). Melissa's mum came with us for a short while (hobbling and tired).
Melissa wanted to go on the Ride Of Death

Perhaps I have a more developed sense of impending death or injury than her. I at least found this rickety contraption very scary, from the vertical ascent on your back, to the rocking around 60 feet above the ground. It was a minor relief just to get down to a height where serious injury seemed a better alternative than actually dying. Then she went on this rather jolly little plane

while young Owen looked on.
He didnt take the opportunity to go to the pub at 2 days old. Plenty of time yet. His mum was in the pub at 2 weeks old.
We took Melissa with us to the back beach for beer and supper (OK, squash and hotdog for some). She insisted on paddling to cool off, and ended up totally immersed, in her vest and pants and refused to come out. Little sod. She knew full well that M and I werent going to get our feet wet unless she was actually drowning.
The fishing boat was in, driving 1000s of shitehawks mad with delight and hope. Thankfully, they dont have fishing boats, so there are at least a few fish left in the sea.