It could easily have ended in a fist fight. Or more likely a plastic shovel fight. This is how it began. My kids, my wife, and I went down to a Cornish beach. A beach with an interesting feature. There is a small stream that runs high up the beach parallel to the sea for more or less the whole length of the beach. Kids find this stream almost more fun to play in than the often pretty rough sea, which is mostly inhabited by bodyboarders smashing into each other. As the stream runs essentially over and through sand with lots of stones around as well, it is very malleable. Kids (and, invariably, their fathers – mothers do not seem so keen) love to build little dams, dig up new channels, and create little pools to play in. On the given day, easily 20 to 30 kids (and some of their fathers) were happily engaged this way somewhere along the length of the stream, when suddenly the water was reduced to a tiny trickle and had stopped flowing altogether further down the stream.