Last week the word, look and let’s face just about everything about the Monokini was keeping me up – it’s everywhere – everywhere but on me that is. I’ve moved on though, my word of the week this week is saggy. Think Bagpuss. Now before you jump to conclusions and think I’m now pointing an accusatory finger at my bum (not too dissimilar to a stripy, pink cloth cat) you’re wrong. We’re talking saggy bikini.

Of the two bikinis – both worn equally – the Peacock’s number is beginning to show signs of chlorine and sea salt fatigue – nothing to do with the size of my bum, honest. Yes, the once snug pants are beginning to droop in the bottoms – you know how kids’ nappies look when they’ve got really wet? Furthermore the top is making me look like I’ve had a breast reduction and is gaping. It now means I have to apply suncream over my entire boobs as the sun’s rays can now get right down there.

MORE Bikini Diaries:
Bikini Diaries # 1
Bikini Diaries # 2

I’m pleased to report that the Curvy Kate number (modelled above in a way I’m sure it never has been before) is still intact and not showing any signs of sagging. In fact it’s still bucking me up to produce quite a cleavage – the sort I could hold a cocktail glass between whilst applying lotion to the kids.

We’ve had a mix of poolside and beachside this week – amongst other things – I don’t sit on my bum 24/7 I’ll have you know. Whilst I prefer gazing out at the sea it has to be said that I’m getting a bit fed up with the sand getting in all the wrong places (hang on though, are there any right places?) The fact that it was over 40C didn’t help as my skin was itching more than a kid with a severe case of head lice. It also didn’t help that despite my efforts to keep my bed sand-free every time a child approached they deposited half the beach all over me and my lounger.

I’ll admit I have enjoyed watching the kids bounce around on an inflatable ring. They pull each other along and splash in the waves and if poolside give the lazy blighters trying to have a restful holiday a good old soaking (that’s when I hide behind my Kindle and pretend I’ve not noticed). I have also enjoyed creating my own inflatable ring game. It’s kind of sadistic, which is a bit concerning considering I’m supposed to be the doting mother-figure, but hey ho. Anyway, it goes something like this:

1. Kids get on ring
2. I announce in a loud voice like a funfair Waltzer operator: ‘Hold on tight riders we’re about to go fast’
3. I then jiggle the ring really fast, up, down, sideways trying desperately for them to fall off – even better they fall on top of one another.
4. They come up spluttering, spitting out sea water or chlorine and then ask for more.

It’s very therapeutic and I recommend it to all frustrated, sandy and saggy-bikinied parents.

Next instalment: We set sail to the Greek Islands…