Yesterday, we went for a paddle in the sea.
Quite normal when you’re at the beach, you would think. But because it’s us obviously nothing is straight forward.
When we arrived at Lytham St Annes, the tide was out. Well, the tide was on its way back in, but it was definitely out. So we strolled on the beach and then went and splashed about in the sea, and watched it creep closer to where we’d left the bag and our shoes. Then we splashed about in the sea carrying our bag and our shoes. And it was great fun. And at whatever past nine in the morning we were practically the only people around and it was lovely.
We’d walked a good way down the beach to get into the sea, by this point. Far enough out to be able to see Blackpool Tower and the Big One, at least. And we walked along the beach, still in the sea, for a bit longer, chasing off sea gulls and marvelling at the fact that there wasn’t that much crap floating around in the water.
Eventually, though, we headed inland to enjoy some more of the kites and to head into the town for Carole to engage in her hobby of visiting independent bakeries to see if they do cheese straws. The one we went in didn’t, and weren’t particularly amused when asked if they could tell us a bakery that did. I was outside at this point, pretending that Carole wasn’t with me.
As the sun continued to beat down on us, and it reached noon, we headed out onto the beach to have a picnic and, again, watch the kites do kitey things – albeit less successfully as the wind hand dropped off quite considerably. I’m not sure how far off the ground a kite should be if it actually wants to be known as a kite, but a lot of them were more just elaborate beach towels at this point.
It should be noted, here, that the tide was in. Really in. Not that far down the beach at all. If we’d wanted to paddle again it would have been a simple matter to stroll for a minute or so and our feet would be wet. But we were picnicking. We were not paddling. That would have been too easy.
So the day progressed, and we explored the tackiness of the arcade on the pier. And had possibly the longest game of air hockey in the history of the world which, eventually, ended with me winning 7-5. But that was all. We didn’t spend ages playing the 2p machines, we didn’t spend a small fortune on those claw machines trying to win a series of allegedly licensed soft toys from films and popular TV series, we hardly touched any of it.
But we did really enjoy the kites.
And then we fancied another paddle.
You remember how the tide was in at lunch time?
Well it was distinctly not in when we went for our final paddle of the day. We walked for fricking miles to get to the sea. I estimated we were approximately halfway to Ireland by the time we hit water. It was almost worth walking all that way just to dip a toe in, declare loudly that we didn’t like it and begin the walk back up the beach again. We were further out than before because we could see more of Blackpool Tower and quite a lot of the Pleasure Beach as well
I mean, it was totally worth it.
It was beautifully cool and a nice contrast to the heat of the day – although we were only so warm because we’d walked fricking miles in the sun to get there in the first place.