Spirits undampened

We’ve reached the midway point of our road trip and it’s fair to say that the weather could’ve been kinder thus far. But the whole country has been under a black cloud, so why should we be any different? (For the record, I blame Boris Johnson).

Since I last reported in, there has been a further beach trip with lots of rain on either side.

Let’s start with the sun.

Despite the militant seagulls, Woolacombe beach is a fabulous place.

Huge area, surfer dudes and dudesses everywhere you look with long-haired lifeguards aplenty. (I’m almost certain I spotted one who was female). Everyone very cool. And then we rocked up.

Jamie and Charlotte had been threatening for days to bury me and experience has taught me it’s best to give in early.

All I can say is that being smothered up to your neck in sand is heavy on your chest.

Especially if, like me, you haven’t got one.

That’s the sunny stuff done. Now for the wet stuff. 

And, to be totally honest, we’ve more than coped. 

There have been lots of board games played.

Some in the pub. Which has also provided the opportunity to sample a bit of live music.

Upon Jamie’s request, this band played Hotel California. (The fact that the only two words of the song the lead singer knew were “hotel” and “California” is irrelevant. He had a go. It was four yeses from us).

On the subject of guitars, Jamie visited a local shop and road tested a posh one (Christmas is coming up).

We also visited other retail outlets. 

Jamie didn’t buy this bought Charlotte bought a lot.

And earlier today, we finally got round to watching Toy Story 4 in the cinema.

I’ll not spoil the plot but it did bring back memories of previous Toy Story movies...

....when some of our number...

....were more enthusiastic Toy Story fans...

...than they would ever admit now.

If the forecast is to be believed, the worst of the inclement Devon weather is finally behind us. 

So tomorrow we start again.

One port of call might be nearby Croyde, the beauty of which wasn’t immediately obvious when we drove through earlier today whilst the rain lashed down.

But no one was downhearted.

Onwards.

Do you know this seagull?

At shortly after 2pm yesterday on Woolacombe beach in Devon, a crime was committed.

Aided and abetted by other seagull bully birds, this character assaulted my son and stole his meat and potato pasty.

I’d already had mine. Sitting alongside me on the golden sand, Charlotte had gobbled up her cheese and onion equivalent. And Vanessa had performed a disappearing act on a crab salad sandwich.

All good. And then the nasty seagull struck. In the space of no more than two seconds, it glanced off Jamie’s head, making him drop his pasty. It then grabbed a large chunk of it whilst three other birdie robbers arrived on cue to snaffle the remnants.  Not a crumb was left.

Understandably, Jamie - a confirmed bird lover - was a bit shaken up. I’ve heard stories of seagulls snatching people’s chips and knocking ice creams off cones, but I’d never seen anything like this.

Thinking about the incident overnight, I started to blame myself.  I don’t know if you saw the final Jaws movie - the one where the son/daughter/whatever of the original Jaws arrived with revenge on its mind and the objective of eating Chief Brodie’s family. 

As it happens, back in my beach cleaning days, part of the job was to pick up dead seagulls and shove them in bin bags. However, occasionally my fellow Wombles and I would get bored.

I’m naming no names - Pete Wilson, Colin Andrews, Stephen Barr, Tommy Millen, Rodney McAleese, Jason King, Roger Woodend, Jason Kyle, Alan McClarty plus Jen Trohear who watched - but some of us did develop an unfortunate habit of giving the birds the opportunity to make one last flight. None of them ever did manage a final flap, on the grounds that they were dead.  But perhaps our actions could have been interpreted by some as undignified on the part of the deceased.

Following yesterday’s vicious attack, I now fear that our lapse of judgement all those years ago may have been seen by living seagulls at the time with tales passed down through the generations. And yesterday’s attack on Jamie was an attempt to get at me through my son.

So I end with two messages. First, to the nasty seagull pastyjacker.  I’m hoping to be back on Woolacombe beach again tomorrow.  You and I have unfinished business.

And to my fellow Wombles, watch your backs lads and lass. They’re coming for us.

Any F in Food?

Good afternoon from Devon where the White family road trip has now dropped anchor.

We’re on Woolacombe beach which used to be the best in the country, but isn’t any longer.

Still, it’ll do for us.

Jamie has just completed an extended bodyboarding session, during which I watched on dutifully in case he required fatherly assistance.

Not that I would’ve been much help. 

I’m not really a fan of cold water, just one reason why I never applied to be a lifeguard despite growing up on the Causeway Coast.  That and the fact that someone told me the doggy paddle was unlikely to get me through the exams.  So I spent six summers picking Belfast people’s litter off the Portrush beaches instead.

As you can see, today’s weather here is bright but not especially warm.

That is still a major step up from last night when we went for a drink in the freezing cold before the rain forced us back inside.

I brought shorts so I’m wearing shorts, that’s the deal.

One positive aspect of a staycation should surely be that the language barrier is removed. But last night the barman appeared never to have met a customer from Coleraine.

Despite the late hour, we thought it would be nice to order the kids some desserts whilst we waited for the monsoon to pass. 

“Are you still serving food” I asked.

“Sorry?” the barman replied. Not sure why, I wasn’t aware he’d done anything wrong. 

“Are you still serving food?” I persevered.

“No, I’ve not heard of that.”

Several thoughts ran through my head, some of which would not have reflected well on me nor, indeed, future Coleraine visitors.

So I decided to knock together a quick cocktail of chippiness with a hint of sarcasm and a large shot of disdain.

“YOU’VE NOT HEARD OF FOOD?!”

“Oh, food! Yes.”

F****r. 

I’ve haven’t yet come up with tonight’s teaser but I’m thinking it might have something to do with evolution.

A prolonged thunderstorm is due with us tomorrow, so I expect to have even more time in the bar to quiz my new best friend.

Winds of change

We’ve reached the end of phase one of our road trip and it’s a case of so far, so windy.

Yesterday we scaled this monstrosity.

It was worse than it looks, especially in the teeth of gale force winds.

The prize at the end was to see this, Durdle Door.

It was a lot more impressive up close. Well worth the effort.

Then we went to nearby Dorchester to get soaked.

Although Jamie, ever the Yorkshireman, did acquire a job lot of strawberries for a pound.

Today was centred around Weymouth and, I must say, we were dead impressed.

It reminded me of a mini-Brighton. The sun even came out.

The kids made a sand version of me when I’m dead.

(Jamie’s hands are covering my “modesty,” which I appreciated).

Then Charlotte became a mermaid...

 ...with Jamie mermanning it.

Back at base...

... we had a BBQ with Jamie chefing for the very first time.

He even washed up afterwards.

Recently elected Assistant Patrol Leader by his fellow Scouts, I’m beginning to wonder if he thinks Bear Grylls can see every one of his good deeds.

Tomorrow will herald the start of a different experience and the central plank of our holiday. I’ll explain next time.

Road trip

Good morning after another torrid night in a tent.

Yes, we’ve gone camping. Again.

Not phased by Carfest North, and heavens knows why...

...we have dipped our toes back into the predictably muddy waters. 

To be fair, this trip - our road trip, as the kids have insisted on calling it - has been long in the planning.

Every family needs to spend a fortnight in the south-west coast of England, and this is our chance.

I admit it, I like a bit of foreign all-inclusive action as much as the next person. But the novelty wears off on kids as they get older. Plus, they soon begin to realise how much wine their parents have had. 

So yesterday we - well, Vanessa - drove 320 miles from Guiseley to Dorset.

We left at 0625 and had breakfast two hours later in Loughborough.  I almost went to university there and it seems a fine place.

We travelled on to Stonehenge, which doesn’t quite rock like the Giant’s Causeway. But I would say that.

Then we moved on to nearby Salisbury.

I was hoping to meet up with some old friends, but it didn’t work out. (I made that up. I just thought it would be amusing to be photographed pretending to be a spy. I’m holding Vanessa’s £1 flowers. She paid for them herself).

We took the kids to Salisbury Cathedral, a must for all tourists these days. The spire was just as magnificent as President Putin’s men described it. 

The kids had their picture taken with an infamous bench in the background (I didn’t tell them about that bit).

And had a pasty in what, for a period, was the most familiar Greggs in the country - despite being closed.

A seriously top city Salisbury, well worth a visit if you’re anywhere near.

I’m now inside our hurricane-battered tent 40-odd miles further away. Thankfully it’s still standing but it was touch and go during the hours of darkness.

Later today we’ll hang around locally, maybe hit the beach. 

Let’s see. The forecast isn’t great, but it never is. The Whites are on holiday.

CarSplash

The picture above was taken last Saturday morning, just before the sky caved in.

For the fifth straight year, we were at CarFest North, the family music festival hosted by that Chris Evans (in the cap).

It has changed a bit over the course of time.  It was originally set up to raise money for BBC Children in Need. And once you paid for your ticket, everything else - other than food and drink - was free.  Rides, exhibitions, activities - all part of the up front cost.  The idea was that there would be no haves and have nots - all kids would be able to enjoy the same experience, no matter how much money their parents had.

Unfortunately it's changed over the past 2-3 years.  They charge for most things now, whilst the ticket price hasn't changed.  But still, that's the deal and it was our choice to go.

This year's musical line-up began on a high on Friday with the great Johnny Marr plucking brilliant as he reeled off old Smiths hits. 

Away from the spotlights, the Morris Vicars were fun. 

But then the rain came.

Then some more. 

And some more.

We sought shelter in the Wall of Death.

And Jamie did some roller discoing (it's worth a look).

But, outside, the rain continued.

Hacienda Classical finished off Sunday night's proceedings in jumping style.    

But still the rain fell.

This was no one's fault, and our fellow Guiseley residents were fabulous company.  They made the weekend, without a shadow of a doubt.

And seven days on, we're all dry now.  

Catman

My mum got a kitten a couple of months ago.

A pretty black female, she called her Delilah.

Jamie and Charlotte were most impressed having "met" Delilah on FaceTime. Charlotte, in particular, was thrilled to have a new girlie chum in her life. 

That was until today when my mum called up with some news.

"She's got a penis." 

"What?!" I replied, a little shocked.

"Delilah.  She's got a penis.  Well, HE does."

"How did that happen?"

"I assume it was there all the time.  I just never thought to look.  But today she started washing it. Sorry, he started washing it."

You would never think that my mum spent a lifetime as a nurse.

Feel free to send through your suggestions for Delilah's new name and I'll pass them on.

I'm thinking Willy.

One more step

Jamie left primary school on Friday.  How the heck did that happen?!

This was him and Charlotte on Friday morning.

This was them on their first day at St Oswald's four years earlier when it became a primary.

And this was Jamie on his first day at Guiseley Infants.

It's been something of a traumatic week for the boy, as it was for all Year 6 leavers (and parents).

Everyone did a magnificent job in Tuesday evening's school production.

You can see Jamie below wearing the top hat in his role as "Headmaster 1." 

But the dreaded leavers' assembly certainly played with the emotions.  That's him on the left with two of his besties. 

Although he did get to play his guitar, which always raises the spirits

But the time to move on has come. 

Come September, it's next stop Guiseley School.