Beach babe

Last night Mr RG and I went to the beach. This may sound like a totally normal thing to do, right? However, we are Mr and Mrs We-Love-Winter-Die-Sun-Die-Ew-There’s-Sand-and-Seaweed-and Jellyfish-Oh-My!
I have to say though, I kinda enjoyed it. It was 39 degrees yesterday, and a 5pm beach visit was timed just perfectly to avoid the sting of the sun, but to enjoy the warm sea breeze while having a splash in the water.
Of course, we are not beach people, so we don’t really know how to DO the beach. First I packed these important items:

• water
• my camera
• my mobile phone
• my purse
• one towel (we only have one towel remotely suitable for the beach)
• sunglasses

We flip-flopped our way across the sand and started to paddle ankle deep in the water, me with my huge  tote full of digital hardware, the towel still in the car. Mr RG reasoned that we won’t need it until we get back to the car anyway.
So off we paddle, until I realise that it’s all actually quite pleasant, and I would like to have a swim (at the beach. I know. Who’d have thought?).  So I ask Mr RG to take a quick photo of my pregnant beach body, for historical purposes, then we go back to the car to return my bag of unnecessary items.

We trundle off again, this time I am carrying nothing but my thongs, and Mr RG has the car key in his shorts pocket. That’s all we need, right?
Paddle, paddle, frolic, frolic. We slowly get deeper and deeper into the calm, clear, cool water. We laugh at each other as the water gets higher and higher and feels cold when it first touches our dry skin. We’re like a couple of giggling kids as we walk gingerly through the water, I on the lookout for man eating sharks and deathly jellyfish, and Mr RG wearing his only vaguely suitable beach attire: tennis shorts and a cotton summer shirt.
We’ve been walking along for about half an our, paddling in chest deep water, when Mr RG freezes and calls out “the keys!!!!”. I freeze and jump all at the same time (something to be seen, I can assure you). I look frantically around for danger. Key shaped danger. “WHAT?” I seek clarification. “The car keys!” Mr RG clarifies.
Oh.
Where do you beach people put your car keys when you go for a swim at the beach? As we were walking a few kilometres across the beach we didn’t want to leave them with a towel on the sand, as it appeared many people must do. What are you supposed to do with them!??
So we shrugged, figured the damage was done, made a vague escape plan should the keys be truly buggered (push button electronic door opening keys that may or may not set off the car alarm if inserted into the lock old style to open the car), and continued splashing in ankle deep water. They keys were now being held safely out of the water in Mr RGs hand.
After a very enjoyable evening we made our way back to the car to cautiously press that tiny little ‘unlock’ button– and HUZZAH! We were safe! The car opened, we drove away into away from the sunset, discussing the finer points of beach survival that we need to teach our children.
So, how do you prepare for the beach?