Oh we do like to be beside the seaside.

Oh don't look at me like that.

Yes I'll admit, I'm drawn to the water. I can't help myself. It's a sickness really.

It's a handy thing that we have such beautiful beaches here.

This is Knockinelder.






See that, not another soul in sight. That's because Knockinelder is on the invisible part of the Ards Peninsula. The bit below the convenient little red line.

Nobody seems to know it exists.

It's my favourite bit of the peninsula.




We collected Toots from my mum's house on Sunday afternoon and headed out with no real plan of where to go. She fell asleep in the back of the car so we just kept going along the full length of the east coast. She eventually woke up, desperate for the loo just as we were passing Kearney.

We pulled in to the tiny little village and even though it was a full two days ago now, I think the husband is still there. He completely fell in love with the place as soon as he set eyes on it, with its tiny little white washed cottages, perfect little picket fence enclosed gardens, all beautifully manicured and filled with flowers and its private little cove beach, he's even more determined to win the lottery now:)

The tide was out when we arrived and the sun was beating down. We could feel the heat on our faces and the sand was warm under foot.




But none of that changes the fact that we're dealing with the Irish Sea.

If you don't know, the Irish Sea is pickling cold. All. Year. Round.

Not that any of that stops of four year old.

She had already fallen in to the water face first by this stage and was completely soaked, but still that didn't stop her.

I was perfectly content to sit on the sand, with my hot cup of coffee and my camera merrily taking pictures like every good mother should.

But then the husband got stuck in.

The bugger.

Quietly egging my on. Calling me a chicken. Telling me the child had more stones than I did...

So, as promised and without any further ado.

I give you Leanne, the big ass chicken.

Running like a demented person back out of the Irish Sea.

Because the child does in fact have bigger stones than me.

I should have grown out of this kind of behaviour years ago.

And its disgraceful that the husband can still get a rise out of me.