The Shellfish Bar
I did a post about cockles and how they didn’t get to America here. But it’s not just cockles they sell… mussels, winkles, oysters, lobster, jellied eels, shrimp, crab, whelks. Oh how wonderful to see all that fishy seafood sitting in the sun. Of course, it’s a British tradition to get your fish fix when you’re at the seaside. It’s just that some of those things look a bit, well, nasty. I will stick to my cockles.
|Photo coursey TripAdvisor|
How can you go to the seaside and not have a donkey ride? We used to beg and beg our parents to please let us have a ride. The answer was usually a “No,” but that didn’t stop us from begging. Of course, you have to take the obligatory photograph of the donkeys, lined up in a row with poor unsuspecting children balanced precariously on their backs. After being dragged and bumped down the beach for five minutes you were back on solid ground and your parents were out a few quid that they would never get back. All because those donkeys are so lovely!
Doughnuts on the Pier
Ahhh… to walk along the pier and smell that wonderful scent of cooking batter in hot oil. There was always a crowd around the window watching those sizzling little doughnuts fall into the mound of sugar at the end of the conveyer belt. They were always tiny, but perfectly cooked. It makes my mouth water just thinking about them. We always ate them too fast and wanted more. There’s nothing better than freshly cooked doughnuts still too hot to bite. Krispy Krème try, but they cover them in slimy goop, so it’s just not the same.
|Love to watch through the window|
Punch and Judy
Although a great British seaside tradition, it’s a bit creepy if you ask me. Always set up on the beach in a striped “tent” and always, so it seemed, the same storyline which includes Mr. Punch, his poor beaten wife, Judy, a policeman, who I have a feeling wasn’t there to stop her being battered and a crocodile with sausages(?). There may have been more characters, but I could never stand it long enough to watch until the end. It fascinated people who, in chorus, chanted “That’s the way to do it” while Mr. Punch was beating his wife black and blue. It’s a wonder women’s libbers haven’t had it banned by now. Used to scare the pants off me.
A bit creepy?
How can I possibly remember the seaside without mentioning those oh so saucy postcards? Every souvenir shop sold them and we, as children, would spend ages reading them all. I’m not sure we actually understood many of them, but they were so risqué and so part of the British seaside experience that you couldn’t not stop and look at them. Whether it was buxom women, fat women, skinny little old men, milkmen or doctors they were always very double entendre. I wonder if anyone actually sent those postcards from the beach? Something to give the postie a giggle!