So long summer! You left so soon, like an affronted guest forced to sit next to boring uncle Albert at the wedding party.
But while you partied, we joined in. Though we nearly forgot. This trip down to the beach, and our first and only, took place a couple of weeks ago, just as we realised your swan song was near.
Littlehampton appears to be one of the nearest sandy beaches to where I live, hence the visit there. Freddie has not been to a sandy beach before. He took a while to warm up, unsure of what on earth seaweed was, and what this strange yellowy squishy stuff was beneath his feet. But then he loved it. He became more adventurous in the water too, going deeper into the waves then rushing back as the water came in – lovely to watch.
Unfortunately Littlehampton doesn’t have much else going for it other than it’s beautiful beach. An air of provincial despair seems to hang around the town, and even blows down to the seafront at times.
A small motor railway trundles up and down the seafront carrying miserable-looking grandparents and toddlers. I was probably that miserable-looking mother that they talked about when they got home and bitched about their day.
I lie. One other saviour of Littlehampton is the East Beach Cafe, a piece of architectural delight. Freddie and I sat outside with a plate of chips fending off seagulls and watching the sea. East Beach Cafe was designed and built locally. All the food is local. However it feels like a beached whale here – it should be happier somewhere like Cape Cod or Newquay. Sorry Littlehampton.
Summers are for the beach, but next year we’ll be partying at some other seaside.