When I was small, my nan used to take S and I to the caravan during the Summer. It was this huge static thing in the middle of Bridlington. At the side of it was this steep grassy hill that lead down to another 4 or 5 caravans and then a cliff.
I wasn't allowed anywhere near it on my own but sometimes, when S was in a good mood, we'd pack some sandwiches into a bag and he'd take me to the cliffs. At the bottom of them was a tiny pebble beach. The only way to get to it was to walk down maybe 100 rickety wooden steps. Most of them were missing and alot of the ones left were rotten. S used to go down first, testing them as he went, then telling me which ones I could stand on and which ones would break.
I can't remember ever seeing anyone on that beach except S and I.
It was always full of driftwood and shells. We'd gather some for nan and skip rocks for a while. When we go hungry S would pull me up onto a part of the cliff that stuck out and we'd eat chocolate spread sandwiches and always leave the crusts.
We'd stay there until the last possible minute, right up until the sea reached the bottom step and then leave. Nan would be waiting for us with a cup of hot chocolate and some cake.
They were the good days.
Memories worth cherishing. :)
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