West Coast Road Trip: Langebaan

En route to our beautiful little cottage in Langebaan, I fleetingly noticed three words on a wall around the corner from where we were staying - Windtown, South Africa. This didn't register until a short while later when we had unpacked and set off for a stroll down to the beach.

Wow. THE WIND. It's not a kite surfer's mecca for nothing. I spent an unfortunately disproportionate amount of time detangling mine and Immy's hair at the end of every day, while Rob - completely liberated from such concerns - read his book and ate mince pies.

We spent Christmas here. I missed our twinkly Christmas tree. And our traditional family Christmas Eve dinner. But we improvised. We set up a table for Father Christmas with milk and fruit mince pies, and a bowl of sugar for the reindeer. And we played Mary's Boy Child over and over, Immy and I singing along - until Rob  switched over to Frank Sinatra out of sheer desperation.

Turns out  Father Christmas had no trouble tracking us down. And Immy exclaimed with surprise that he had removed all the melted candles from the table. I should have known she would notice that. Apparently Father Christmas is just as fastidious as I am in clearing up half-melted angel candles and pools of wax from a table.

There were gifts, and hats, and Christmas crackers. Her stocking was filled. We waited with anticipation for the exclamations of joy and surprise. Which were the loudest of all when she pulled a cracker, and a sticky hand fell out. The rest of the gifts paled in comparison and the hand was thrown with much enthusiasm against the glass door while the real gifts lay in a mournful, ignored pile.

Lunch was traditional Christmas fare at a local hotel. And afterwards, a drive to admire the sparkling turquoise lagoon and envy the people who wake up to such views every day.

We stayed here for the rest of our holiday, using it as a base for a number of day trips. Our lazy Windtown days looked something like this.

Wallowing in the shallow waters of the lagoon.

The way she looks at him.

A bucket and spade. Sandcastles. And seashells.

The HOORAY! pose. This was a recurring theme throughout the holiday.

Sunset wave jumping. And some keen competition between kite surfers and seagulls.

The rest of our time followed much the same pattern as most summer beach holidays. Eating and/or drinking at beachside restaurants. Sleeping. Drawing. Reading, and eating liqueur-soaked cherry chocolates. Or wait. Is that just me? Immy was in seventh heaven with the unprecedented luxury of TV.

In between the languid beach days, we headed off to Cape Town for some exciting, non-beach pursuits. More of that to come, once I have gathered the courage to sort through all the photos.

In the meantime: celebrating the comforts of home and candle-lit Monday night family dinners and sleeping in my own bed again.