After the Portrush

Dom's been on holiday with NanNan, GanGan, JobleyJobleyJobley and MummyDaddy, taking in the stunningly gorgeous Antrim coastline. The lovely sunshine only deserted us once, in the form of a torrential downpour though even this turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the first rumble of thunder sent the Americans scuttling off the Giant's Causeway into their coaches, leaving it clear for us hardy, waterproofed Wassocks to get some (IMHO) great photos. (See also, Grandad's pics)

The reason for the trip was Jo's 30th birthday. She wanted a p*ss-up in a brewery, but we couldn't organise that so she had to make do with a great second-best: a p*ss-up in a distillery - the Old Bushmills to be exact.

Having loved the sand but hated the sea in St Ives, Dom has now decided to hate the sand and love the sea. So, instead of paddling himself, Dom took a management role approach and delegated it to me. My job was to wade into the chilly Atlantic in September and jump over waves on his command of "Big.One.Coming!". Good times.