But I'd committed to driving my daughter and her friends to a disco, half an hour away in Greystones, and to collecting them at 11.15. More for Andrew than myself, I told him we'd have an adventure. He too was happy on the sofa, and after 24 hours of rain, it was hard to know what we would do on a grey Sunday evening.
We dropped the girls, and pulled up at the car park by the rocks. Andrew was not happy, wanted to wait in the car while I walked the dog. I persuaded him, reluctantly, to put his coat on, and we got out of the car.
The minute we were out of the car, we felt the cold. This was not just cold weather, it was hats and scarves and boots weather. And as we approached the sea, we could already HEAR the waves breaking on the rocks.
For ten minutes, we stood on the concrete fishing platform, just watching as wave after wave washed over the rocks and flowed like a river in spate down the steps and back into the sea.
The dog was surprised again and again by the thud of waves crashing against the wall and the shower of spray shooting over the wall onto where we were standing. But Andrew was shivering. He didn't want to move, he was enjoying it so much, but I said we had to keep moving to keep warm, and off we went, along the rocks.
And treasures we found. A washed up buoy. A stick that looked like antler's horns. A bottle with rope tied to it Then later, we took the steps down to the small beach, and found stones and fragments of shell that looked like fins. A washed up seabird, caught by some current or tide.
We ran around the projecting rock to the second beach between waves. But as we went to return, we found the waves were higher. Three times we started and ran back. On the fourth, the sea came up so quickly, it covered our feet and our ankles, even as we scrambled up the rocks. In an instant, Andrew went from confident excitement to fear. "We'll never get back".
We did, of course, a quick sprint when the waves receded, and there we were with wet shoes, socks and trouser legs.
As we walked back to the car, we watched the gulls hover and dive into the froth beside the rocks. A man stood staring at the sea and at the gulls. We spoke of how exciting the waves and the sea were, how unusual on the 3rd of June, and how a passing dog had taken Andrew's antler stick. We turned back, followed the dog, who politely gave the stick back, distracted by our dog, then headed to the car.
Before driving off though, we crossed over the footbridge, and to the fish and chip shop for a steaming brown bag of chips. Then a drive to the 24 hour Tesco, for dry socks and shoes.
An adventure doesn't have to mean travelling far away.