WITH THE FAMILY,

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 25, 30 January 1926, Page 10

WITH THE FAMILY,

A DAY AT THE BEACH. FATHER'S QUIET DAY. (By SEASIDER.). It isn't that dad is unsociable; it isn't, that he has made other arrangements, but the mere mention of taking the family to the beach, for a day puts him in a" bad humour. He agrees all children should enjoy themselves while tht-v are and nothing is better ior'them than a day at Milford, Narrow Neck, Cheltenham or any other of Auckland's fine beaches. But don't ask him to go. Ke says he is past that stage now and has other and more important matters to occupy his time. It isn't that really, but his experiences -of the seaside have not exactly left happy memories, and long sine? he decided that if mother ever suggested again taking the family to the beach for a day he would become suddenly ill. If there is any married man in this wide world who can honestly say he has enjoyed himself at the seaside making sand houses, wiping "kids'* faces, pulling them out of the water, searching for lost buckets and wooden spades, then dad would like to meet him. This i≤ the position as I summed it up the other evening when I called upon dad, and he, after looking about to see that the "Missus." as he called his good lady wasn't within hearing, entertained mc with what had fallen to his lot that day. I gathered from him that the family, comprising mother, two girls aged ten and eight, a boy aged four, and dad, had arranged to spend a day at Milford, that the outing had been held, and that dad wasn't "having any - , in future. "I don't think I have ever put in a worse day," he confided jo mc. "From the time we arranged to take the 'kids' I haven't had a bit of peace, and last night I was completely fed up. All sorts of clothes, swimming costumes, bats, spades, balls, and eats had to be found, and if you saw mc loaded up with hampers and parcels this morning you would have thought I was groin l ' away for good. "But you must have food and toy 3 for the children," I remarked. "Look here," with another glance towards the passage door. "I can see you don't know anything about a day at the beach. Take it from mc, the old. man falls for everything. I admit the Missus found the tram and boat fares, but I did everything else. From, the time we left home I had not a minute to myself. I had to carry the parcels, look after the 'kids,' and see that none of them fell overboard. When we got to Milford it was mc that had to walk all over the beach to find a spot to camp for the day. I had to get the hot water, make the tea, see that no pine needles got into the *illy, keep the sand out of the sandwiches, watch the kids didn't get drowned or sunburnt, pick them up every time they fell down, wipe their faces, find their clothes, dry the costumes, all sorts of things. Xo married man with a family of kids could possibly enjoy himself at. the beach." At this moment the "Missus" came into the room. "I believe you and the family have been enjoying yourselves at the beach," I remarked. She glared at dad. "I'm glad he thinks so," she said. "I don't know what the children would do without their mother. Dad is impossible to take to a picnic. He did nothing but growl all day long and lay about under the trees. That was bad enough, but what do you think he was mad enough to do besides?" I did not make a guss;*. "Well, there was a man on the beach whose nose was bleeding, and dad put our door key down his back and forgot to get it back. When we got Ivome we had to crawl through the window."