DESPITE being 24, 22, 20 and 17, the kids still come on holiday with us — and, for as long as it lasts, we like it that way.

This year, it was a week in a villa with a pool in Portugal and, in line with tradition, games of “keepyuppy” featured prominently.

As the name suggests, this is where we get into a circle in the pool and pat the ball to each other without it hitting the water.

As a sign of our mounting keepyuppy experience, the usual target of 100 was reached easily so a new challenge was required. “Swimming pool kerby” was my answer.

It was an adaptation of a game we played as kids – standing on opposite sides of the street, and trying to make a ball bounce back to us by throwing it against the kerb edge.

It is a dad’s right to dictate the rules and this is what I came up with:

  • Players to stand on opposite sides and aim to get the ball to bounce back off the edge of the pool.
  • The ball has to reach a minimum of half a width of the pool, in a clearly upward trajectory, to count as a “kerby” and score a point.
  • A ball that bounces the full width of the pool and is caught by the thrower is a “double kerby” and worth two points.
  • If the thrower dives into the pool to make a spectacular catch, it is a “triple kerby” and is a three-pointer.
  • If a thrower scores, he/she retains possession.
  • The opponent can wipe out the kerby by hurling him/herself into the water to make the catch ahead of the thrower, taking care to avoid a mid-pool collision.
  • The first to seven points wins.

Having firmly established myself as undefeated Kerby King during the first few days of the holiday, I decreed that we should have a doubles tournament, with the additional rule:

  • The thrower’s partner must make the catch to score the points.

It came to pass that in the final it was me and my wife versus Christoper, 24, and Jack, 20. We got off to a terrible start and were facing defeat at 5-0 down. But then, out of the blue, I hit a hot streak, with two double kerbies in a row. That made it 5-4 and the tension mounted through a series of near-misses.

I took my turn, breathed evenly to settle my nerves, and threw the ball in a beautifully-judged arc.

It hit the edge of the pool and ballooned up into the air. My wife, God bless her, flung herself into a fulllength dive and plucked the ball out of the air like a swallow catching a dragon-fly.

As she emerged, triumphantly, from the water, with the ball in both hands, it was apparent that the top of her swimming costume had been forced down on the point of impact.

Her failure to keep-it-uppy horrified our opponents, but it was the highlight of my holiday. New rule: If, in catching the ball, your wife’s costume falls off, it’s a ten-pointer!

The things they say

AT a meeting of Neville Parade Wives Club in Newton Aycliffe, Jean Spencer remembered how her daughter Jill, seven at the time, wanted to be a “paracetamol” when she grew up. She meant a paramedic and, in fact, she’s now a paediatrician at Great Ormond Street.

ALSO at the wives club, Margaret Willis was talking to grandson Matty, seven.

“Who do you think’s older – me or Grandma Chris?” she asked.

To her disappointment, the boy replied: “I think you are.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because your hair’s grey,” he replied, before adding: “Mind you, Grandma Chris colours hers.”

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