CRABS & 101 Dalmatians

Ewan:                    Hi, today, we are mainly talking rock pools and crabbing.


George:                  Whoa! Just a minute. Hey, George here, welcome to my world. Won’t you come on in?


Ewan, mate! This Holiday Blog is equally my Holiday Blog and I don’t recall being consulted about making today’s subject “Rock pools and Crabbing”. Why would we devote a whole day to rock pools and crabbing?


Ewan:                    Don’t you think the greatest thing about this holiday is Rocky the Rocking Horse, dragging your surf board round the sandy beach, throwing stones into the water they call the sea and crabbing in rock pools.


George:                  No! The greatest thing about this holiday is “101 Dalmatians”.


Ewan:                    But isn’t that a DVD you brought from home?


George:                  No. You are living in the past, aren’t you? It’s on Netflix.


Ewan:                    But it’s rubbish, George. It is not even animated.  It’s a grown up documentary film of real people and real dogs. Where’s the magic in that?


George:                  Look at that Cruella de Ville. I’ve met plenty of her sort already in my short life, And those beautiful dogs, all 101 of them and their mates.


Mum and Dad are buying me one for Christmas.


Ewan:                    Not a real one, though, a toy one?


George:                  No, a real one, directly from the Disney Store. We’ve been to see them.


Ewan:                    Christmas is a quarter of your lifetime away.


George:                  I know, Christmas is 129 sleeps away. A long, long time. But Grandad says good things are worth waiting for. And a 101 Dalmatian is the best thing in the world, ever.

Ewan:                    But days go so slowly, especially when you are waiting for something. Did you know since being born I have had to have 914 sleeps. It is so boring and a waste of life. Why do we have to sleep?

George:                  I have had loads more sleeps than that.


Ewan:                    I don’t mean sleep sleeps, I mean the giant grandnormouse ones you have each night when you go to bed because it’s dark and have a bedtime story, jump up and down in your cot and protest and shout and scream. Then somehow you end up waking up, you are hungry like you’ve never been hungry before and someone has saturated your nappy and even filled it full of poo whilst you slept making it so heavy.


That is what they count as a sleep. Not dozing off when you should be getting into life and up to mischief.


George:                  Just let me work it out. In that case I have had 467 sleeps in my life and I’ve got to wait 129 sleeps to get my Dalmatian. That is ridiculous! I’ll never get one


Ewan:                    It’s all about dreams, George. If you don’t have a dream how you gonna have a dream come true.


George:                  I know but I want a 101 Dalmatian and I want it now!


Ewan:                    Look George, we are supposed to be talking rock pools and we’ve nearly used today’s quota of words and not even started yet.


George:                  I don’t care. Crabs are alright but rock pools are boring. There’s nothing to say about them.


Ewan:                    They are really interesting. They are filled with water, and stones and sea life.


George:                  It’s alright if you are honoured enough to be taken to the rock pools. But due to the age prejudices in this family I was considered to be too young for rock pooling and wasn’t taken.


Ewan:                    But you were allowed to sit in the pools of water on the beach, and ended up crying.


George:                  Yes! For a start I fell down in them. They were ice cold water and they wet my nappy, with cold water from the outside. They are made for warm wee from the inside. Have you ever experienced that, Ewan? It is far from pleasant.


Ewan:                    Course I have. It’s most unusual for you to cry, though, George.


George:                  I know, normally if I’m unhappy Grandad has taught me to show it by putting on a sad, grumpy face. I normally only cry at life or death events. Like being desperate for food (that’s every mealtime). Or if a phone, TV remote, cables or electric plugs and sockets are taken away from me.


Ewan:                    I think you were having a strop because you weren’t taken rock pooling.


George:                  It was all a load of crap you caught anyway.


Ewan:                    It just was not George Patrick Reed. That’s sour grapes.


We caught jelly fish, small tiddler type fish and ginornous crabs. It’s so exciting when Dad or Uncle Col puts the net in the water and hauls out a crab.


George:                  A crab. Where were the sharks, octopuses (or is it octopi) and whales then? I didn’t see any of those in your bucket.


Ewan:                    No, George, you have a point. I think they were hiding under the rocks, probably for two reasons. They were scared of me and we didn’t have the right bait.


George:                  What bait do you need?


Ewan:                    Human blood and we didn’t have any.


George:                  My dad says the Great White Shark has 300 teeth in various stages of development within their mouths at any one time! You have to feel sorry for their babies. Ultimately I will have 32 teeth but they give me so much greif cutting them with pain and colds and it’s 10 times worse for a baby shark.


Ewan:                    I’m with you there. I bet their six monthly dental check takes hours and costs thousands of pounds.


George:                  I suppose I was impressed with your crabs. But it was a bit of a pointless exercise because you showed me and then emptied them back into the pool.


What a waste of time. Another reason I ain’t impressed with rock pooling.


Ewan:                    It is all about looking after the environment.


Anyway what else could we do with ‘em?


George:                  Give them to Grandad to put on a sandwich, He was eating crab sandwiches all week and your mum was eating crab paste sandwiches.


Ewan:                    I think that was a Grandad joke. The stuff on his sandwich didn’t look much like the crabs we caught. Where were the claws?


George:                  Yeh, what you say is right, Ewan. I bet it was a jam sandwich.


Ewan:                    Crab jam?


George:                  Hey Ewan, 101 Dalmatians is about to start, again.


Ewan:                    Ok.


Together:               Bye Bye!



© 2017 www.rujokinggrandad.co.uk Phil Robinson