Surfing

"Yeah, I think the left looks rideable".

Back in the summer, Cian went surfing.
Alright, that sentence needs some qualifying.
Back in what passed for a summer this year in Ireland (this was our fourth year home in a row and weather-wise, by far the worst), Cian stood up, rather shakily, on a foam board as it was pushed ever so gently in shore by the crumbling wash of a gentle wave.
We were down in Clonakilty, the beating heart of West Cork, for a few days and let me begin stating straight off that An Sugan serves the best pint of Murphys anywhere. That glorious glass of velvet smooth goodness is reason enough to visit the town.
And then there is the surfing down at Inchydoney beach where we enrolled Cian in a beginners surfing class for 2 days. Motivating us was a chance to meet my cousin Kay and her two boys who were over from England at the same time we were home. And why did we want to meet with the boys (besides to commiserate with them for having a Cork woman for a mother)? Well, I had managed to convince Kay and her family to come over and visit us all here in Japan later on in the autumn (a long post for another day), and we thought it would be a good idea to meet up beforehand so the second cousins could get acquainted.
And get acquainted they did. Along with getting very wet. Kay had enrolled her boys in the surf school the year before, by all accounts they had loved it, and they were back for another session this summer. Cian, in awe of his father's exploits all along the Pacific side of Hokkaido, wanted to experience some of that gnarly big wave magic for himself, so he readily agreed to take part. Unfortunately the weather didn't agree to take part.
God, but it was bitter those two days. I have surfed in February here in Hokkaido when its been so cold that ice forms on your wetsuit as you are walking back from the shore to the car. But it still wasn't as bitter as the weather in Inchydoney last August. If it wasn't for the fact that Cian was (a) born in the depths of a Hokkaido winter and from a very young age (i.e. 2 days old) was exposed to freezing temperatures; and (b) he has inherited some of his Mammy's ahem, 'roly-poly' subcutaneous fat genes, especially around the midriff section; he would surely have succumbed to hypothermia. But the boy put on his game face (along with his 5 mm wetsuit, hood, gloves and booties), and caught himself some waves.
And so it begins...dudes.

Summer 2015 in Ireland.