Last day

We have had a day out.

We discovered last night that Mark would not be doing rural broadband today because the equipment that he was supposed to install had not yet arrived.

The result of this was that over coffee this morning we realised that we had a surprise day off.

We thought about it for almost a whole minute before remembering that we had a washing machine to collect in Blackpool.

We summoned the children out of bed, and an hour later we had packed the car full of jumpers and spare-clothes-in-case-we-accidentally-get-wet, and were trundling down the motorway.

We could not take the camper van because we would not have been able to fit a washing machine through the door.

We did not take the dogs because although we would have liked to charge about in the sea with them, Blackpool does not allow dogs on the beach between May and September.

We left them here and the lodger came round and took them for a walk. She came back and took them for another walk later as well, which we thought was very kind.

It rained, hard and discouragingly, all the way down the motorway, then miraculously, as we had our first sight of the Tower, a little patch of blue appeared in the sky behind it. This got bigger and bigger all day, until eventually we were drenched in sunshine.

It was a special day. It is our last one living together as a family. Lucy goes off to a festival tomorrow, and by the time she comes back, Oliver will have gone to Gordonstoun. After that she will be leaving, not just to be a university student, but to a full time job somewhere else, with her own house and washing machine and fridge. She will not have long student holidays, but annual leave, determined by the police, during which she will probably just go to Ibiza with her friends.

My mother thought I might catch Empty Nest Syndrome. Mark says that this is a disease whereby you have all the sleep that you like and plenty of money.

We thought that it would be lovely to spend the last day in Blackpool, and it was.

I like Blackpool. It was packed full of people, laughing and shrieking and eating enormous ice creams. The donkeys stood patiently on the beach and ignored the small children pestering them. Indian ladies pulled their saris up to their knees so that they could dip their feet in the little waves, and a paddling toddler sat down unexpectedly and cried.

We wandered along the pier and looked at things. We went to the bookshop, because we always do that, and we all bought a book, as a souvenir of our summer holiday. Mine was about not using social media. I am interested to see what this has to say. If I am suddenly not on Facebook any more it is because I have believed it.

We went to the Beach Restaurant and ate the most enormous lunch. There was a cheesecake so huge and thick and creamy that even between me and Mark with Lucy helping, we could not finish it. The chap behind the till explained that it stops people running away, after so much cheesecake you can only waddle and then he can catch you. We thought that this was a jolly good idea, and waddled away contentedly.

The restaurant had a loo that was for both men and women. I do not mean one single loo used by one person at a time, but a row of them, to be used by everybody.

It was the first time any of us have experienced this, and I don’t mind telling you that we all thought it was very weird. I think I am probably not very up to date in my opinions, because I thought it was entirely awful and in any case smelled of men. Lucy said that after weeks of festivals she is immune to smelly toilets, but that she did not like it either.

I do hope this idea takes a long time to catch on. It is not at all nice. Men should not be hanging about listening to ladies having a wee. It is Wrong.

We ate doughnuts as well, although not after lunch.

We took our shoes off and paddled in the sea, and it was a good job we had thought to bring the dry clothes, because Oliver paddled up to his waist and would have gone further except that I started to worry about him being swept away by a rogue rip-tide, and shouted him back. We have already paid the first term’s school fees and it would be a shame to waste it now.

I bought a plant pot holder made out of shells. We had to borrow the money for this from Oliver. The lady behind the counter was not very well educated, and had to frown hard and count on her fingers to work it out, and we all ached with sympathy, how lucky we have been.

It was just starting to go dark when we strolled back to the car, and we had had such a good time that we had almost forgotten about the washing machine, but fortunately Lucy remembered.

We came home with a washing machine and a plant pot holder and indigestion and a lot of happy memories.

It has been a lovely last day.