They perch vicariously on the deck together, man and daughter, having to repair and measure and paint and sand and mask. The breeze blows across from the South West. We wait for our lunch. Cottage cheese and fresh tomatoes remembered from baby bump. My greedy green little fingers want to unwrap warm chocholatey sticks and smear them in Grandad's cockpit, the warm August sun smears my face with angio freckles. Quite distasteful to some. Munch, munch can't find the crisps. A little dog runs across to visit, paws caked with sand and nose with cockle shells. I meet my friend Stacey from Lewisham. We work out the formula, how to get men and make babies. I go home to my big old house and make tea for the gorgeous creature who is my man. I wait for next summer to raise it's face in my direction.
The sun is high against the sky and shining down on us again, oh how much paradise can one person take?