Saturday, 25 August 2012

A Fish Called Papa

In the garden of the restaurant with the view across to Arran, I asked the nearly 5 year old if he thought he could swim to the island. "No Mummy" came the reply "Sharks might eat me". He gazed over the water as a new response to my query entered his mind. "Papa could swim to Arran" he informed me with the simplistic certainty of the very young. 

Nearby, just within earshot and watching from the terrace, the only non swimmer of the group - my father and papa to my clever boy - flexed his imaginary fins and filled his gills with pride... x

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