Conflicted parents

When I was younger, we went to beaches in South Wales with sandwiches in tin foil and cartons of Um Bongo. Dad would take us out on a dinghy and afterwards I would lie back on my towel in the sand dunes listening to The Rolling Stones on my cassette Walkman letting the sun beat down on me. I loved every second of it.

Fast forward to Squidge's life and we're sat on a poncey nightclub beach in the South of France ordering sushi and bottles of rose on daybeds surrounded by flash types ordering magnums of champagne and taking selfies.

God what happened to me? Is this right? I think the answer is that right is what's right for you. But I do fear that Angus and I are in danger of trying to cling to a little of our old hedonistic party life with our new life as parents. Never quite pulling either off.

Whilst we're not Centre Parcs in Sherwood Forest types, neither are we this. I just hope we can still give Squidge the chance to play and be young and unaffected by all this ostentatious narcissistic wealth we keep surrounding ourselves with - be it Dubai, Miami or Cannes.

Feeling contemplative. A nice holiday in Cornwall or Anglesey beckons.

Meanwhile, love this pic taken on said narcissistic ostentatious beach where we paid silly money just to lie on the sun loungers. Squidge didn't care. She just wanted to build sandcastles with her Daddy. Says it all really.