One of Those Days

As September gave way to October we were treated to what the press refer to as “An Indian Summer”, or as they say in Yorkshire: it were reet warm. So with the promise of one last nice weekend before winter set in we decided to have a family day out in Scarborough. First question: Saturday or Sunday? The weather forecast indicated that Sunday was going to be the hotter of the two so with visions of building sandcastles on the beach we decided this would be our day.

Sunday morning came round. Saturday had been hot, seriously hot, so we were enthusiastic about the promises of today. Of course even in this Indian summer, the mornings had been foggy, but every day the fog had cleared, replaced by brilliant sunshine. When, therefore, Sunday morning began with heavy, grey skies we were undeterred. With all three of us wearing shorts, sandals and T-Shirts, and seeing no need to pack warm clothes or raincoats, nothing but buckets and spades, we jumped in the car and set off.



We’d been driving for about an hour, through Wetherby and North on the A1, entertaining Bobby in his baby seat by doing some rather fine (if I do say so myself) impressions of Bob the Builder, in fact we’d been travelling through roadworks for some time when a doubt which had been nagging in my mind finally made it’s way to my mouth and I asked Suzie “Should we be travelling this far North?”. It turns out, of course, that we shouldn’t have been and had missed the turn-off so we had to take the next exit and turn around.



Eventually we found ourselves on the right road, but we’d lost time and gained miles. More worryingly the clouds showed no signs of dissipating, in fact it had begun to rain. The next 40 miles were filled with discussions of whether we should turn back, at one point we even pulled off the road and began heading for York but eventually decided we’d come too far to turn back, we had told ourselves that today we’d be building sandcastles, and sandcastles would, therefore, be built.



After 3.5 tortuous hours we arrived in a cold, damp Scarborough, parking in a multi-storey car park over a Wilkinsons. First order of the day had to be to buy warm clothes, so off we schlepped to Matalan where we spent 40 minutes kitting ourselves out. Then lunch, Costa was always reliable with a baby to feed, but, in what was to be the motif for the day, Costa couldn’t do coffee, their machine had broken. But we were in Scarborough, so we’d have fish and chips. We wound our way through the side streets until we saw the sea front, then had to bounce the pushchair down a millions steps before arriving at the crowded, tacky promenade. In the far distance we could see a sign saying fish and chips but Bobby needed a nappy changing so we opted for Harry Ramsdens because it had baby change facilities. No lift here so I then had to bounce the pushchair up 2 flights of stairs. The room was dark, small and dirty, the 2 waitresses were rushed off their feet and so didn’t have time to clear up properly between punters, the floor was littered with dropped chips and discarded napkins, but we were here, and we needed to eat. And I mean we really needed to eat, otherwise there was no way I would have paid £21for 2 portions of fish and chips! Twice the cost of the original, and NICE Harry Ramsdens 2 miles down the road from our house.



With the bitter taste of being ripped off lingering in my mouth like dry, over-fried fish, we resolved to make the most of the rest of the day, specifically building that bloody sandcastle. The skies were still grey but it wasn’t quite freezing outside, so we crossed the road and found a patch of beach where we laid our towels. Bobby had a great time, chasing after seagulls and shouting “I’M GONNA GET BIRD!” before demolishing the half-arsed sandcastles that I’d built. Then Suzie suggested I take him down for a paddle, unfortunately this turned into a belly flop into the wet sand, caking his clothes in it. I marched him back to our base camp and Suzie couldn’t believe how messy he could get, she took him back down to the waters edge and found out for herself, bringing him back soaked from head to foot and encrusted with sand. Thus ended our sandcastle building adventures, we had to dry him off and change his clothes completely.

Next we decided on a boat trip around the bay, only the time taken to dry and change Bobby meant it was no 4pm and the last sailing was 3.45, so we went looking for a soft play centre. When we eventually found one, at the Olympia Leisure, it turned out to be on the first floor. And, once again there was no lift. There was, however, an escalator. Which was out of order. Finally heeding the portents of the day we gave up and headed back to the car.

Fate, however, wasn’t finished with us yet, using the sat nav we found a short route home, however the traffic was solid for the whole journey, which meant another agonising 3.5 hour drive.

7 hours in a car, £21 for fish and chips and, as we would later find out, a cold for Bobby. And all for a journey to Scarborough which, just as I remembered, was a shit hole.

Next time: Whitby.