We are parked beside the beach.
Outside the winds are howling and rain is lashing down. This does not bother us at all, because we have had the most wonderful weather all day, and I really like being in the camper van when the weather outside is being exciting.
This is helped along by Mark having walked the dogs and I did not go with him. He was very brave.
The children are playing some giggly wrestling game at the other end of the van. It started with Lucy trying to teach Oliver ballet, which is not terribly practical in a camper van, but in any case it is now considerably more violent than one might expect from a ballet lesson, so I think they are doing something else.
It has been the most brilliant day. I mean really, really brilliant, happy in every sort of way. We have spent all of our money and some of the mortgage, and we don’t care, because it has been the best of times.
We were briefly woken up in the middle of the night in Manchester by some youth tapping in the window and wondering if we might wish to sell him some drugs, which made us giggle. We declined, and then slept like a cave of hibernating bears until morning, when we packed ourselves up and set off for Blackpool. Mark said that it had rained hard during the night, but I had missed it.
In Blackpool there was no sign of rain: in fact the sun was so warm and benevolent that we abandoned jackets and simply strolled along the promenade in our shirts. Mark took Oliver to see the Star Trek exhibition, at his earnest request, and Lucy and I wandered off together.
We went for a paddle.
Actually, I went for a paddle. Lucy said that it looked cold, about which she was proved right, and a large wave soaked my trouser legs, but it didn’t matter. My lips tasted salty and the wind was in my hair and the sun was warm on my shoulders and I thought that life was lovely.
After that we went to Waterstones again.
This was possibly not the best decision to have made from an economical point of view, but we didn’t care, and indeed when Mark and Oliver came out of the Star Trek exhibition they found us there without even having to ring up to see where we had got to.
Secretly I like the Blackpool Waterstones better than the Manchester one. It is smaller, and easier to find things, and you do not have to pick your way through tables of things like French classic literature and esoteric religious philosophy, neither of which interest me in the least.
In fact my taste in literature is fairly simple, and anything more complicated than Jilly Cooper or JK Rowling is wasted on me. Big print and an exciting plot is the best, and anything which involves somebody’s inner turmoil and struggle with overwhelming emotions, especially if they are artistically reflected by the state of the weather outside, will make me shut the book and switch on Facebook.
We went to a New Restaurant for dinner, or at any rate new to us. It was actually on the promenade opposite the Tower, and we have passed it hundreds of times, but never gone in until today.
It turned out to be a jolly good decision.
We had huge plates of lamb and chicken and gorgeous saffron rice, with garlic bread and glasses of Merlot.
We ate so much that we could barely waddle back to the camper van, and once we got there we all went instantly to sleep, except Oliver, who retreated to his bunk with one of his new books. By the time we woke up he was begging us to go back to Waterstones for the sequel. Maybe tomorrow.
By the time we woke up the day had slipped away, and it was time for the 3D Cinema Adventure.
Blackpool Odeon has nine screens, nine!
We saw a film called Ready Player One, which we all loved, it was like popping inside Oliver’s head for a visit. We hurtled through space and crashed into things and asteroids smashed the road in front of us and King Kong roared and tore the civilised world to pieces.
It was brilliantly exciting, and there was one bit where I had to hold Lucy’s hand because one of us was scared, although I am not telling you which.
It is bedtime now, dark and violently weathery. This does not at all reflect my inner soul, which is joyfully contented and peaceful.
We are having the best holiday imaginable.
