Utter Drivel: Like falling off a bike

Well we had a couple of days at the seaside last week. An opportunity to visit Jayne's brother and his wife and a birthday treat for me.....well that was the idea anyway.

We had good weather - sunshine and a bit of a westerly onshore breeze. I am reliably informed that this type of breeze is better than one coming from the sea – that would be much colder.

Thursday morning - I did something I haven't done for 18 years........I rode a bike.....didn't fall off....wobbled a bit. We cycled to the “family” beach hut.....or chalet if you're posh. The beach hut is on the “prom” at Sandilands, near Sutton on Sea, looking out over the murky brown North Sea - Cote D'Azure it is not. But it was calm and the waves were gently lapping on the beach.

Sandilands out of season is a bit like a ghost town and ours was the only beach hut being used.

So we had a relaxing couple of hours there before heading off on our bikes again.

This got me thinking about seaside holidays when I was growing up.

I remember going to Blackpool a few times. We also went to Cleethorpes three years in a row and stayed at the same guest house each time. Other seaside delights included Great Yarmouth, Scarborough (we went with some neighbours from our street) and Bournemouth and a day trip to New Brighton. But by far it's Blackpool and Cleethorpes that stick out most in my memory.

Day time was usually spent on the beach. We had the regulation bucket and spade. The grown ups had deckchairs. We had great fun...digging massive holes, building sand castles and our dad had a talent for building boats.

It didn't seem to matter how cold it was we always had to go in the sea. Then we would run back up the beach shivering and try to get dressed with the towel held around you to protect your modesty. Invariably you'd fall over trying to balance on one leg while getting your underpants on.

I nearly forgot donkey rides – the names, Polly, Molly and Dolly....Ok, but you get it right. Then there was the smell....now I know people who actually like the smell of horse manure but.....phew, it can be a bit stinky when you're only a kid. And when you're queueing for the ride you really didn't want to get the little scrawny one did you or the one that was a bit too frisky. As I'm writing this Jayne says the donkey's always looked a bit sad to her and she felt sorry for them....but then she was a girl.

After the evening meal we would go to the amusement arcades, to the pier or to a show. At Blackpool there was the Pleasure Beach for the big rides. Oh the disappointment if you weren't tall enough to go on the big dipper or the dodgems! In Cleethorpes we used to go to the boating lake and dad would let us steer the motor boat....at least we thought we were.

I remember playing bingo....you know the sort I mean where you pull the little plastic cover over your number when it's called. I dreaded the thought of winning....what did you shout....bingo, line, house, here....and what if I hadn't got all the numbers right. Phew someone else has won again.

Then there was the “grabber” machines....the ones where you guided a mechanical hand into all the goodies and nearly always failed to get a prize.

Often before going to bed dad would take us to a little cafe for a mug of Horlicks or Ovaltine.

If we were really unlucky dad treated us to some culinary seafood delicacies like cockles swimming in vinegar, whelks and more recently crab sticks.

When I had children of my own my mum and dad had a caravan at Flamborough Head near Bridlington. So for a few years this was our regular summer holiday of choice. We did all the same things I did as a child....beach, sea, getting dressed behind towels, donkey rides, amusement arcades, candy floss, dough nuts, fish & chips out of paper and sand in everything from your shoes to your sandwiches.....hmm wonder if that's where the name comes from.