A day at the beach.

The Morris Minor Frank inherited from his parents has turned out to be a Godsend. It has always been well maintained and the mileage is actually quite low. It allows them to make occasional excursions to places like Woburn Abbey and Chessington Zoo on the odd day off.

Frank particularly likes the day trips down to Brighton. The drive down the A23 is always pleasant. They usually park in a side street (a fairly uncomplicated process in 1970) and unpack Cynthia’s various life support systems. Cynthia is nearly three now and becoming something of a handful so it’s important to bring orange juice, pushchair, some nappies just in case, and of course a blanket. When they think they’ve got everything off they go down to the beach where Lorraine remembers Eeyore and Frank has to go back.

People are strolling along the sea front. They are normal, ordinary English people for the most part, taking time out from their busy lives. Some are enjoying bracing walks, older folk are resting in Regency shelters or feeding the gulls. Fresh air never hurt anyone. There are some youngsters too. Youthful fashions haven’t changed much Frank observes. Headbands and granny glasses are still in evidence but by and large Flower Power seems to be wilting. Perhaps somebody forgot to change the water. He wonders what new fashion will replace it.

Frank has brought along a recently published novel by Kingsley Amis and he is looking forward to reading a chapter or two. It is ‘Green Man’ in which a publican who suffers from something called hypnagogic jactitation attempts to interest his current wife and his mistress in a ménage a trois. He also has a fairly challenging crossword and if that doesn’t hit the spot there’s always the vastness of the ocean to contemplate. The ocean across which generations of Englishmen have ventured to seek their fortunes, bringing the light of civilization to dark continents, plundering Spanish galleons, deporting unwanted criminals and stocking museums with looted antiquities and hitherto unknown species of plants and animals. Frank starts to imagine a tea clipper gamely rounding the Cape in full sail…

Cynthia has found a ball of tar. Luckily it hasn’t gone in her mouth. But her new red dress is perhaps not ideally suited to the conditions. Lorraine shows her how much fun it can be to put pebbles into a plastic bucket.

With Cynthia happily occupied Lorraine unpacks their lunch. There is a Thermos of tea and some cheese and watercress sandwiches. Frank chews a sandwich slowly whilst observing the Palace Pier. Further along the beach is the less popular West Pier engineered in 1866 by Eugenius Birch and beginning to surrender to the sea. Funny, thinks Frank. It seems like only last week that he had sat in this very spot with other young misfits listening to skiffle music. Now here he is in a deck chair eating sandwiches just like the normal people they used to make jokes about. But what, when you get right down to it, is ‘normality’ anyway?

There is a clattering noise as Cynthia empties a bucket full of large pebbles. Building sand castles on Brighton Beach involves a certain amount of heavy construction. Patches of sand are few and far between and the tide is coming in which doesn’t help. Lorraine thinks she is just about ready for a move. Frank fancies a beer. Lorraine wouldn’t mind a walk through the lanes. Cynthia has her eye on a colourful roundabout. Frank offers to go on it with her but Lorraine doesn’t think she’s quite big enough. Cynthia insists. Bit of a kerfuffle. Fortunately Lorraine is able to distract her with some candy-floss.

On the way to the lanes they stop to look at some rude postcards, the dominant features of which are angry women with big bottoms, meek little men in deckchairs, red-faced policemen and saucy nurses. There is also the occasional vicar. Frank considers sending one to Pop. There is certainly a good selection to choose from. He settles on Woman To Salesman: “That lavatory brush you sold me is no good mister, we’re going back to paper.”

On a park bench by the Royal Pavilion Frank wonders about some fish and chips? For later? Lorraine thinks it’s a good idea. Frank locates a vendor and orders two nice pieces of cod. Well wrapped, no vinegar, extra newspaper please. They should keep warm if the traffic isn’t too bad.

Lorraine thinks it might be a good idea to leave early to avoid the rush. Frank agrees. The car is exactly where they left it, undented, no graffiti and no wheels missing. So it’s off again on the good old A23. The same familiar route through Hurstpierpoint, Handcross, Pease Pottage, Crawley, Gatwick (where airport building continues apace), and back to Horley. It has been a most enjoyable Bank Holiday. And it certainly made a nice change. Frank’s ruminations on the nature of normality had been inconclusive but that was nothing new.