I think the last time I visited Southport I was about 13, and burnt my ears in the sun. It would have been a family based summer holiday at Pontins. Fortunately today is just a daytrip, so there will be no Crocodile Club for me. My accomplice for the day would be Gill (she of the cartwheel and sand writing ability) for she was also free for this glorious Saturday and also wanted a day out by the sea. So off we went, suitably attired, well I had shorts on.
A few 80's tunes later and we were paying for our ticket, you have to pay to park everywhere, even outside my own house, but anyway we were in Southport, hurrah. First things first, Gill wanted ice cream, not that whippy stuff, but a 'proper' scoop, I must agree, not about the consistancy of ice cream, but ice cream itself, it does go well with a stroll down a pier, and so we did.
Ice cream consumed, or rather licked away, we continued our meanderings, right upto the sea, which for those who know Southport, can be quite a distance. Getting there was something of a feat in itself. So the shoes and socks had to come off. Gill had flip flops, so they were easily flipped off and we flopped our way via the squelchy black mud/sand to the sea, and paddled.
Paddling done, and small shell collecting achieved (according to Gill, I have a house full of 'stuff' and more 'stuff' is always welcome), we continued our meanderings until we found respite in the smallest pub in Britain and consumed a couple of beers. The lakeside view is what it says on the tin, so perched on the veranda we quenched our thirst before heading home to burn stuff.
As it was such a fine evening, we sat outside and warmed ourselves by burning stuff (not my collective 'stuff' but wood and paper) in my chimnea. Quickly making a chilli, which I intended to have with jacket spuds cooked inside the chimnea, but turning out as blackened pieces of charcoal, mash became a substitute. A few more drinks and music rounded the evening, until Gill headed home.
A nice day with a nice if not a little burnt evening.
click here for gallery of pictures
A few 80's tunes later and we were paying for our ticket, you have to pay to park everywhere, even outside my own house, but anyway we were in Southport, hurrah. First things first, Gill wanted ice cream, not that whippy stuff, but a 'proper' scoop, I must agree, not about the consistancy of ice cream, but ice cream itself, it does go well with a stroll down a pier, and so we did.
Ice cream consumed, or rather licked away, we continued our meanderings, right upto the sea, which for those who know Southport, can be quite a distance. Getting there was something of a feat in itself. So the shoes and socks had to come off. Gill had flip flops, so they were easily flipped off and we flopped our way via the squelchy black mud/sand to the sea, and paddled.
Paddling done, and small shell collecting achieved (according to Gill, I have a house full of 'stuff' and more 'stuff' is always welcome), we continued our meanderings until we found respite in the smallest pub in Britain and consumed a couple of beers. The lakeside view is what it says on the tin, so perched on the veranda we quenched our thirst before heading home to burn stuff.
As it was such a fine evening, we sat outside and warmed ourselves by burning stuff (not my collective 'stuff' but wood and paper) in my chimnea. Quickly making a chilli, which I intended to have with jacket spuds cooked inside the chimnea, but turning out as blackened pieces of charcoal, mash became a substitute. A few more drinks and music rounded the evening, until Gill headed home.
A nice day with a nice if not a little burnt evening.
click here for gallery of pictures
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