Yes, I had been taken by my parents for a few days at the seaside, having just recovered from Chickenpox. My father recently back from the war, had found that his woolen swimming trunks had been attacked by moths and so he took to the beach in a newly purchased pair of Utility ones.
He set out into the sea and plunged about happily, after a while my mother looked up from our sandcastle making and returned his wave, then returned to the sandcastle, this happened a couple of times and then she realised that he wasn’t waving, but beckoning her. Rather annoyed as she wasn’t wearing a swimsuit, she went to the waters edge and he obviously told her why he had called her. She ran back up the beach and rushed to her handbag and pulled out a manicure set and took it back to the waters edge, together with a towel.
By this time various families on the beach were making a good attempt to look as if they were not engrossed in all this.
Suffice it to say that the Utility trunks had not proved a good buy - they shrank, and anxious to avoid an arrest for indecency, he swam, using one arm and clutching them with the other, to the point where she had waded in, took the scissors swam further out again, and cut them, sitting down under the water.
I was fascinated to see my mother turn walk a few paces and with the deftness of a test cricketer, hurled the towel at my father which he fortunately caught. They both returned up the beach, and with typical British reserve, the other families averted their gaze.
OK in fairness I didn’t remember all the finer points of this story, but it was related so many times over the years, that I could piece it all together. I don’t suppose I thought much about it then, but we had many a laugh recalling it. It rained for the rest of the week, and my father became rather annoyed when my mother regularly burst out laughing.