the last night

No-o-o!! Come on, we can do this. If we leave by say eight - ten minutes to razz it back to the van...

Yes, open. Not wrapped. A dark-haired, friendly man - a tall blonde girl. Poles of course. Behind us, a couple were getting distractingly heavy with each other, laughing and sighing.

Laura dredged the chips in salt and splashed on vinegar.

None on the fish, don't get it on the fish...

A boy knelt and managed to twist his face through the hole.

What am I, a dog?

You're a baby!

We promenaded, Laura still munching her chips, up to the end and round and back. Small children skittered and dashed sideways. Clopping girls with slap-back hair, pushchairs, thin boys of striking pallor with piercings, frail old folk, mountain-bellied drinkers, bearded bikers cradling their helmets.

ding-ding...DING-DING... ding-ding

Miles inland, a few giant cumuli were brewing. Otherwise the sky was still perfectly clear.

Below us, large sand-banners proclaimed

JO n
KELLY
WUZ ERE

The sea was a long way off. A few groups of tiny people ventured out beyond where the mud grew darker. A helicopter buzzed around. The light was red-gold.

I thought of getting my camera out but we'd already shot so much film in Sand Bay that I thought no, there'll be other times.

There was a licensed bar, they told us. From within came the relaxing crash of coins.

Beneath us, heavy dark birds with cruel beaks soared in to land. I've never learned what they are, juvenile herring-gulls maybe; I fancied, in defiance of genera, that the seagulls and crows of the shore had interbred to produce a super-scavenger.

To be honest I don't remember much else about it. We were having a serious conversation. My teeth thrilled, biting too deep into a scoop of strawberry ice-cream.

Now a quietness was blowing coolly through the planking. The crowds were distancing. A man was speaking into his phone. He was saying: Where do you want this pirate?

Those two are still at it...

The time had gone somewhere, so Laura did miss half her programme.