There aren't many seasides round here, this being a land-locked county and all, but last weekend smallclanger and I went to Weston-Super-Mare and met my parents there. Choice of destination was largely dictated by what is reasonably accessible from Lancashire as well as from here.
So we deposited a tired boy in his bed late on Friday and were up bright and early the next morning. The B&B was practically on the seafront so it was a short walk to the sand and we were pretty much the first ones there.
It was just past high tide and the sand was littered with, well, litter. And seaweed.
What's this strange lump in the middle of the sea?
smallclanger brought one of his recent birthday presents which
despite being called Power Horse isn't really powerful enough to do any actual
digging, even in soft sand.
A "land train" operates in this area, but it doesn't do anything useful like
take you to the town centre.
A particular form of decoration for sand castles made with sand and
water which my dad calls a "twiddle".
They use this to collect the big branches which have washed up.
A random small girl with her mum and dad and baby brother.
They chose a spot about 20 metres from us and while they were there the dad dug a well surrounded by a low wall and some sand pies. smallclanger became interested in this and went to look. Then after ignoring the crying coming from the pushchair for several minutes they decided it was time to pack up. Even before they had finished collecting their things, smallclanger decided the well was abandoned and started filling it in and demolishing its decorations. Then they went and stood around for ten minutes or so in the pose in which you see them now. Suddenly the grown woman marched back down to the beach, walked up to smallclanger's sandcastle (well, my dad's actually), and pushed it over before rejoining the rest of her family and standing around for another ten minutes.
We pretended not to notice later that day when they happened to choose the same self-service restaurant as us, and the next morning when they were seen coming out of the hotel next door to ours.
My parents made a sand car-stle for smallclanger. The sand pie in
front of him is a steering wheel, believe it or not.
SeaQuarium, the outside of which is shown in the top picture.
Back at the B&B: "Do you want to go to a park?" "No, I want to play Lego
Racers on my computer."
Our room offered stunning views of the hotel car park and of the tops of other
The TV seemed to be a relic of the late 1970s; the buttons were marked
"BBC1", "BBC2", "ITV1" and "ITV2". It was a mild surprise that it still
The two-page guest information book is also written in this slightly idiosyncratic dialect.
Sunday: bigger and better sand car, this time with a road to drive on.
This was my effort, which smallclanger wasted no time in trying
to knock down.
After lunch we discussed two possible animal-themed attractions. Having finally decided to go to the closer one we discovered that the map on the leaflet didn't bear much resemblance to reality and accidentally found ourselves en route to the other one instead. It seemed somewhat expensive for what it was, but smallclanger enjoyed it anyway.
After that we went to the beach car park down the road at Brean for some tea,
but weren't necessarily expecting the car park to be actually on the beach.
The tide was out.
After which, we headed back to pick up our things and make our way back home. smallclanger was asleep within minutes, but having been transferred to my car for the trip back he woke up and decided to stay awake the whole way.