Pebbles Over Sand: The Great British Seaside

Long before the days of being able to fly one-way to Malaga for 1p with Easyjet, it was perfectly normal to have a proper holiday on our British beaches.
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Long before the days of being able to fly one-way to Malaga for 1p with Easyjet, it was perfectly normal to have a proper holiday on our British beaches.

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Long before the days of being able to fly one-way to Malaga for 1p with Easyjet, it was perfectly normal to have a proper holiday on our British beaches. Whilst the temptation to head overseas is still likely to lure you away, we still love to be beside the seaside.

Recently, it’s become fashionable again to holiday on home soil. We are told it is a way of reducing our carbon footprint and there have been many campaigns to remind us of the fun to be had on our own coastlines. Advertisers, you are preaching to the choir on this one.

A trip to the seaside brings out the child in everyone. Cries of ‘are we there yet?’ until somebody yells out ‘I CAN SEE THE SEA!’ reduce fully grown adults to excitable six-year olds, in a way not seen since the first snowfall of that year.

Once you‘ve finally found somewhere to park the car, the Herculean task of finding a suitable patch to sit on can begin. You’ll pass a perfectly good spot early on, but that seems a bit too easy, so you’ll walk on. After 15 minutes of being begged to stop, you’ll eventually give up and throw your towel down only to be surrounded by five extended families that are sat inches away from your own.

Cries of ‘are we there yet?’ until somebody yells out ‘I CAN SEE THE SEA!’ reduce fully grown adults to excitable six-year-olds.

Then there’s the free reign to consume four-times the recommended allowance of fat, sugar and salt. Despite the fact you’ve brought a 7-course packed lunch, you still find yourself in the queue for a medium cod and chips. Small children will harass you constantly for ice creams, bouncy balls and things to dig up the sand with, and will repeat these requests until they fall asleep on the way home.

The fact that a trip to the seaside does not live up to our expectations of a Southend version of the French Riviera, sipping Chablis and humming the Girl From Ipanema, is absolutely fine. Yes, we’ll end up eating our dinner from a Formica table next to a group of pensioners on a day trip and we will still love it. It’s idiosyncratically British and if all else fails?

There’s always that cheap flight to Malaga…

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