Back in our pre-children days, when Nev and I spent many months travelling our beautiful country and working in some pretty odd jobs, we spent a lot of time in and around beaches (I actually think we spent more time at the beach than working - sigh! That was the life!)
All of this time at the beach, somehow or other ended up with us learning to love body boarding.
Neither of us were very good at it and certainly didn't have the whole "surfie" image or the professional accessories needed to be taken seriously.
What we did have were a couple of cast off foam boards we picked up somewhere and an addiction to the sensation of all that powerful water picking us up and chucking us towards the beach.
When we stopped roving the countryside, settled down to work and have children, we forgot all about our addiction (if only my addiction to chocolate was as easy to forget!!).
Our home beach at Hervey Bay wasn't very conducive to surfing. The coastline in that area is largely protected from the savage ocean by Fraser Island, which keeps the waves to a gentle lapping against the shore - which of course is great for small children, but surfing - not so much.
The other day, as we descended upon the beach, squealing with excitement over the perfect waves and interrupting all the peaceful sunbakers (who sunbakes these days????) I was feeling pretty good about it all - this new found family fun, (a family who boards together, stays together kind of moment).
I had my board clutched under my arm, high stepping over the waves (trying not to get wet!!), checking Harri hadn't gone too far out and that Ellie was close by my side, mentally writing a blog post about waves, surfing, lost and found joys etc. when the inevitable happened.
I was wiped out by a big wave.