Holiday!! Day 2 – Scarborough and Sally

Ben got us all up at 7:15, I noticed that at some point in the night Chris (aka hubby) seemed to have gathered every single spare pillow in the caravan and had piled them into a mountain. Sadly, I didn’t have time to ponder the mysteries of why my husband felt the need to build a pillow mountain as there were children to feed.

Sally and her nephews

While I gave Ciaran a bottle of milk, Chris supervised Ben’s choice of cereal variety packs – inevitably Ben picked the chocolatey one and sat at the table to eat it. Once Ciaran had drunk his milk I gave him the excitement of chosing a cereal – he grunted and pointed at the honey cheerios before sitting next to Ben to eat them. We had time to quickly shower ourselves and get the kids looking respectable before my sister arrived (she lives nearby in York and had arranged to visit – she doesn’t knock on caravan doors randomly I promise).

We decided that the best thing to do with the day would be to go into Scarborough and get a pushchair (in a very clever moment I left his pushchair in my car boot before leaving in hubbies car). We parked at Brunswick and hotfooted it to Argos where I had to ask the nice man to take all the wrapping and boxes as we would be using the pushchair immediately.

Once we had strapped Ciaran into his brand new bright red pushchair we were ready to hit the town. We briefly considered using the cliff left but decided to save 70p by walking down the cliffs ourselves. I delegated managing the pushchair to Chris and Ben and I ran down the cliffs scaring pensioners on our way.

Ben, Ciaran and me by the tardis in Scarborough

The beach was a BIG hit. We didn’t have towels and hubby snorted at the idiots who paid £2 per deckchair when they could sit on the beach. Hmmm… Sally and I looked at our nice clean clothes and decided that she should run over the road pick up a couple of towels and a bucket and spade while I introduced Ben to the sea.

Last year he found the ‘real’ sea too scary and played in a lagoon left by the tide. This year his Ninny had practiced with him in her lounge, jumping over imaginary waves and he was ready for action. I took his trousers and socks off and rolled up my jogging bottoms. He was quickly in deeper than me, laughing at the waves and splashing excitedly. There is something infectious about a childs laughter and I found myself having a great time in the North Sea.

A quick change over of parents let me sit down with Ciaran and Sally as Ciaran covered his face with sand and kept wandering over the donkeys. I managed to stop him grabbing hold of a donkey’s tale each time and felt quite proud of my parenting and animal protection skills. Ben came back, soaking wet and covered in sand. He had mis-timed a jump over a wave and slipped.

Soaking sandy pants were quickly removed along with his T-Shirt and he was sent back to the sea naked, while I went to the beach cafe to get coffee, diet coke and a portion of chips. Ben came back from the sea to tuck into the ‘family chips’ and get covered in a towel to prevent hypothermia. Ciaran tucked into the chips after seasoning them liberally with sand. Suitably warmed and re-dressed (we left the soaking wet pants to dry over the pushchair) we headed along the seafront to find lunch.

We chose a ‘local’ fish and chip shop where we all tucked into a lovely lunch before carrying on along the seafront. We just had time for an ice-cream near the castle before we took the bus back to the bottom of the cliff lift. At 70p a pop it was a quick cheap way up the cliff and was very exciting for Ben.

Once we got back to the caravan we relaxed (as far as possible with two little monsters) for a while before heading to the Mash and Barrel where Sally treated us all to dinner. Once we had all enjoyed our dinner (and kept the kids away from the allure of the over 18’s gambling area) we went to the family bar and let Ben shake his booty on the dance floor while we enjoyed a pint before heading back home to put the kids to bed and have a post boogy drink in the caravan.


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