I was seven, maybe eight, the day we went to Skegness. Mum had packed triangle jam sandwiches and salt & vinegar crisps for the journey. Could smell her nail varnish as she handed out orange squash. I drank all mine, even though I wanted lemon.
We had to stop at a Little Chef to use the toilets. You could see the staff working in the kitchen. Real chefs in big hats. I wanted a breakfast that looked like it was smiling. Mum said we had food in the car, so I had a tantrum. Dad said he’d buy me fish and chips for supper if I was good.
The journey took years. We listened to Dad’s old Beach Boys tape three times, singing till our voices cracked. When I finally saw the “Welcome to Skegness” sign, it felt like we were entering a magic kingdom. Somewhere made up by a friendly wizard.
The sky was everywhere. Endless blue. And caravans I thought were big cars. Couldn’t believe people lived in them. They must be the luckiest people in the world.
We drove past a clock tower. I’d never seen anything so grand. It felt like something from a different world. A tower just for a clock. A guardian of miracles.
Then we parked somewhere Dad wanted a photo of. A band he liked had been there. It was near the pier. Wooden slabs, stretching far into the ocean. You could see water between the gaps, way under our feet. I held Dad’s hand in case I fell through. He saw me looking down and lifted me onto his shoulders.
I saw the Jolly Fisherman. Waved at him like he was royalty. He gave me a sticker that said “I ♥ Skeggy!” Wore it on my chest all day. I was in the gang.
We built castles with moats on the golden sands. Mum had a little pack of paper flags to stick in the tops. She said we should give each one a name. Mine was Battle Cat Castle.
Dad dug a massive hole, said he was going to Australia. I believed him and cried. So we filled it with water and pretended it was a lake for our kingdom. A little boy came over to join in. I didn’t like that and pushed him in. There was shouting. Dad took me to the donkeys.
One was called Trevor. I liked him best. The man said he used to be a racing horse and lifted me onto the saddle. I took it seriously. Held on tight. Trevor was wiry, like our doormat at home. Together, we set off on an adventure. Our shadows stretched across the beach.
I waved at Mum. It looked like she was crying, as if she hadn’t seen me in weeks. Dad stood with his back to me. I shouted and waved, but he was busy filling in our lake.
Next, or maybe it was before, we went to a Fairy Dell. A paddling pool surrounded by other-worldly caves. I lost a flip-flop. Thought I was going to be in trouble, but Dad found it floating by the steps and brought it over. Laughing as he pretended to spank me with it. I giggled.
We stayed there for ages. Mum sat on the edge with her feet in, trousers rolled to the knee. Dad took photos. At one point, he disappeared and came back with an ice cream in each hand, beaming. Shining.
Later, we went on the rollercoaster. It wasn’t the really big one, my heart skipped anyway. I was nervous waiting for my turn, but didn’t want to show it. Stayed silent, calm. We all squeezed into one cart, me on Dad’s knee. Mum screamed like she meant it. Dad laughed the whole way around.
They said I was a brave boy, so could have some fish and chips. Mum got them from a stall. We ate them walking around the fair. Straight from the paper. They were hot and soggy in the best way. Dad let me try his mushy peas. I hated them. Told him they tasted like bad grass. He said that’s how you know they’re proper.
As it got darker, we went to the arcades. They were loud. I had a cup of coins I fed into the penny pushers, one after another. Believing every single one was going to be a winner. None of them were.
Dad won a “Kiss Me Quick” hat from the claw machine. He got it on the first try. We couldn’t believe it. I watched in amazement as it dropped. We all did. Other families clapped. He wore it proudly. Regally.
We didn’t speak on the way back to the car. I fell asleep as the lights of Skegness disappeared behind me. Didn’t wake up until we pulled into our estate. My neck was sticky from sun and ice cream. I didn’t want to go inside.
Dad didn’t look like the same man. Less shiny. Wrinklier. He caught me staring at him in the rearview mirror. I tried to smile, but I felt like someone had scooped something out of my stomach. I thought we’d live at the seaside forever. In a big car. Why couldn’t we? It wasn’t fair.
When I went back to Skeggy the other week, it was tired. The pier gives up before reaching the water, and the caves have retreated into the ground. A world refusing to keep the promises childhood made.
The arcade was still there, though. Saw my Dad in his hat. Happy. Still the Champion of Skegness.
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Gorgeous.
We used to dig to Australia too until my Dad told us it was more likely to be New Zealand on the other side of Ireland.
You really got into the child’s take on this epic day out - marvellous in all its novelty & possibilities.
Heartbreaking when reality crashes in- exceptional memoir piece 👏