Haven is a Place on Earth (Part 2)
When we got outside, the wind had subsided (a bit, not enough), and we met our friends at the playground. The kids ran off together to dig a giant hole in a sand pit, a task which occupied them for over an hour, while the adults gathered around a wooden table and pretended it wasn’t too cold to be sitting down outside.
“Beer?” my mate asked, placing a bag for life full of bottles on the table.
“Sure.”
Despite being unable to feel my hands, it turned into an enjoyable afternoon and the bag of booze served as an impromptu (necessary) pre-drinking session before the family disco. Last year, Jacob scurried off and I momentarily lost him, pacing around the packed dancefloor, heart pounding, until Louise found him underneath a table. She did not need to report my ineptitude back to her WhatsApp group as it had been witnessed, IRL, by all members.
Eager to atone, I made sure to keep my eyes on the prize (my children) this time and stood alongside other awkward dads while, on stage, The Seaside Squad sang, danced, and played a complex audience participation game that, if I’m honest, I didn’t fully understand.
An hour was enough/too long, and I was pleased when Louise suggested we get back to the caravan.
“Daddy, can we go on the grabber machine?” Joshua asked on the way out. He was glassy-eyed with wet hair stuck to his forehead.
“Sorry, it’s too late, Josh,” Louise said.
“Yes,” I agreed. “I think you need to get to bed, mate.”
“But you promised earlier, Daddy?”
Checkmate.
The machine advertised “a guaranteed prize every time” but a post-disco/sugar-wired Joshua was overzealous with his button-whacking and the claw locked mid-flight before the machine started flashing and making a shrill beeping noise. No prize.
Joshua was annoyed he hadn’t won a golden egg, Jacob was annoyed he hadn’t had a go at winning a golden egg, and Louise was annoyed with me for “trying too hard to be a fun dad.”
We walked back to the caravan in silence.
Fortunately, a further episode of Bluey calmed everyone down and, by bath time, harmony was restored.
Briefly.
“Have you got Joshua’s water bottle?” Louise asked.
“I thought you had it?”
“Andy, that cost £20!”
“What? £20 for a water bottle is disgraceful?!”
“No, you are disgraceful, Andy.”
Losing a wildly overpriced water bottle at the disco is a step up from losing a child, I suppose. Marginal gains.
After putting the boys to bed, we’d planned to join our friends in their caravan but, having sat down, I found it difficult to get back up. A day at Haven is exhausting and, if I’m honest, I’d drunk a substantial amount of beer (and a generous measure of Contreau.)
“Shall we just watch a film?” I suggested, flicking through the channels to find Enemy of the State (1998) was starting on Channel 5.
“Why’s that guy doing that?” Louise asked, midway through.
“Um…”
It dawned on me that, although I had been staring at the screen for over an hour, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I can tell you that Enemy of the State (1998) stars Will Smith but, if you were to ask any further questions, I would have nothing. Nothing at all.
“I think you should go to bed, Andy,” Louise said, quite correctly.
The following morning, with a stale orange taste lingering in my mouth, I had a much thicker head than I cared to let on.
“Right, is everyone ready to go swimming?”
“Can you be the shark again, Daddy?”
There is no rest.
Gladly, it wasn’t a day-ruining hangover and a Berocca, two paracetamols, and several gruelling races down a water slide later, I was back in the land of the living.
In the afternoon, we went to North Landing Beach in Flamborough. On the walk down, the sun emerged from behind the clouds and, for the first time all weekend, it wasn’t violently windy. Flanked by white chalk cliffs, it’s a lovely beach and, as the kids foraged for shells while the waves lapped on the shoreline, it was the perfect setting for a beer.
“Did you bring a bottle opener?” Louise asked, pulling a pair of Coronas from her bag.
“I did not.”
Once, at university, I tried to show off by opening a bottle with my tooth. For reasons unknown, I opted for my canine and, although I was successful in opening it, I watched as the tip of my tooth flew out of my mouth and onto the floor. That was the last time I tried that party trick.
A few yards away, a young couple were drinking beer, so I strolled over and asked if we could borrow their opener.
“We don’t have one, but pass them here and I’ll sort it,” the man said, then used his Haven keyring to effortlessly flick the tops off.
When the time came to open our second beers, I couldn’t bring myself to ask the man again given I had the same tool at my disposal. I hacked away with my Haven keyring, eventually prising Louise’s bottle open. Unfortunately, in doing so, I also cut my finger on the cap and blood started streaming down my hand. Cool as you like.
Embarrassing injury notwithstanding, we had a great time – the boys are at their happiest on a beach in good weather (who isn’t?) and, as we walked back to our caravan in the late afternoon sunshine, we reflected on an enjoyable weekend.
We left first thing on Monday morning, rushing to get home for work/school. As I was lugging piles of bags out of and the boot, I looked at the backseats of the car; sand, soil, broken shells, the remnants of a Soreen bar, and several McDonald’s fries. It was, once again, horrendous.
Looks like another trip to The Big Car Wash beckons. This time, I’ll go for the full valet.
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