Buoys, buoys, buoys

Mum, what happens if I pull this?

Maybe it drags in a lovely little yacht for mummy to play in?

My boys have been pulling a few of my strings this weekend, some attached to the 'irritant' section of my brain and thank God some to my heart. We had a laugh burning burgers on the terrace last night, followed by dancing and light painting with Ben's laser gun. It had to have some use other than scaring the pants off me.

The water is cold, but the sun was just right for an afternoon on the beach and the hell that is life in Mallorca.

Back to vote for the mayor and an explanation of the importance of the secret ballot. I was banging on a bit, but I remember being upset when my father wouldn't tell me who he'd voted for one big general election years ago. Now I know why, and Spain is a country that should remember the details of running a democracy more than many in Europe.

Fish for tea. (Lucky it wasn't hermit crabs.)