It was around the time I moved to London (so absolutely ages ago) that I tried to explain to one of the capital’s natives what Skegness means to those from the East Midlands. We concluded that it comes like Hajj – it’s an annual pilgrimage we have to make to celebrate summer. I’m sure everyone else from Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire, Derbyshire and all that can back me on this.
Somehow my little ones took until they were 3 and 2 respectively before they actually got acquainted with this seaside town – somewhere they’re going to visit every year for the foreseeable future.
We informed Cameo about our plans about a week ahead of time and, without a doubt, it’s been the most excited he’s been about anything. We told him that we were going to the seaside, and he couldn’t stop telling everyone that he came across what he was up to on Saturday. He regularly reminded Marlo that he was going to make big sandcastles with him on the beach, to the point that the littl’un kept telling me too.
Come the actual day and, thanks to Hollie’s impromptu podcasting duties, we left the house a lot later than expected. Regardless, we got there in good time and were able to reach the Lincolnshire coast just as the sun turned the settings up a couple notches.
From the car park we headed directly to the sea. It was the first time both of them had experienced sand anywhere other than at parks and they were blown away by how many shells, chalk stone and whatnot was beneath their toes. So we press on. They’re still both so excited.
Hollie invites them both to stand as close as they can to the sea, so they get their feet wet. One wave and Marlo’s bottom half is soaked. Tears. He’s had enough. He told us to go home.
Cameo ignored the commotion. He came here to have fun and actually dashed his bucket and spade away so he could experience the waves splashing his legs up.
The afternoon continued in predictable fashion: ice cream, sand play, seagull stare outs, couple rides, McDonald’s and we were done for the day.
Hollie and I communicate telepathically whenever they’re around them (because Cameo always knows when we’re talking about him) and we realised how few times we had to regroup to figure out how we’re going to deal with them. Usually, there’s plenty of that going on when we’re out in public. Myself and Hollie have concluded that a ‘great day’ with our boys is incident-free, and completely dictated by their behaviour. This was one of those great days. Let’s do this again.
Skegness, catch you next year.