bronzebrew at the seaside

My first memory of being in the ocean was not at all comforting, i remember being bobbed on mothers hip as she edged deeper into the cold and tumbling water, the taste of salt already in my mouth... I disliked the feeling of being taken unwillingly into this huge unknown mass of liquid, it far differed from the comforts of the bathtub of bubbles and rubber duckies. Mother had taught the three other children to swim and i was the final one to be dealt with, it wouldn't matter that I was at an age two years earlier than the others, she knew the ropes, take her in put her under and bobs your uncle, you have yourself a water baby! No, impatient mother, i wasn't ready!....I squirmed against your bosom as the shore line fell away, the waves came lapping at my neck, my ears and splashed in my mouth, my eyes! i did not enjoy it. Id been happy enough playing with my bucket and spade at the waters edge, dipping my toes in the edge of the vast unknown, that didnt mean i wanted to be dragged out and introduced in this brutal fashion! Under i went, mother gripping me tightly i was plunged deep into this cold and hostile environment, my mouth open wide gasping in shock, flailing helplessly, I choked on this putrid sea soup. . up again, to breath at last...and once more just for good measure "woooooo under she goes" sang mother! gasp choke! .....then, at last i was bobbed back to the sea shore, quivering and cold, now a child that had experienced the ocean properly, mother making sure of it! That image haunts my summer holidays, possibly to this very day, ive never really liked the waves, i guess im just not a water baby...