Probably a very nice girl

But with a ridiculous taste in shoes. Or am I getting old? She's managed at least 100m of Calle Sa Lluna, but then whined she didn't really want to go any further and tottered back, pulling on her poor mother's back all the way. Her sisters seemed a little more practical.

Oh, let them have what they want, let them crave their mobile phones and flat screen tvs, it can't come to any harm can it?

Little Agu did have what he wanted much of the day though, so I should not be too judgemental. He made new friends on the beach. I removed a dead rat from the surf (to the applause of one man in the distant sand). No doubt it had left some sinking ship or other. Others were removing the mini jellyfish. Enough of the beach. Dim sum was ordered by little A very expertly (now I am sounding very middle class). Over dinner, Agu showed some concern over the rioting, but had a sound solution. Basically education. They should just sit down and read, he said! Apparently we are going to write a book explaining everything, though he admitted it might need a little research. He then told me he had a 'genius heart, not brain, but heart'. I was bowled over and tend to agree.

And then we returned to remove the sand from all crevices, which somehow turned into a very short but thorough discussion on sexual reproduction, relationships and such. It took Ben and I topping and tailing green beans to initiate the same chat I remember. That's done then!

Meanwhile, one of my all time heroes, Roger McGough, has signed something for me. I had saved some old copies of a Liverpool poetry magazine for thirty years, and only found them when digging out my offerings for the reading the other week. He's made a little inscription for me, and I'm well chuffed. And I'm not posh Roger, even if I am from Formby and eat dim sum. I get the dead rats from the beach.