Made the most of the Yorkshire Day weekend by going on a trip to Scarborough today, the first time there for each of us.

It wasn’t quite what I was expecting, though I’m not sure what I had in mind. It was like a cross between Llandudno and Bournemouth, my only reference points coming from the western and southern shores of our sceptred island. Maybe slightly better-to-do than I’d imagined. And the beach was much shorter. End of first impressions.

Even though we hadn’t planned a trip to the seaside, J-Bone has been excitedly talking for days about making sand castles on the beach. He must have sensed the psychic tremors, or perhaps he was pushing out the self-fulfilling prophecies. Either way, useful life skills.

I’m not much of a beach Dad: sand in my socks rubs me up the wrong way; I skulk moodily with tidal toes when others happily take the plunge. Dr L is never happier than when in water. J is all about the silicate; the sea can wait.

He set straight to work with his bucket and spade. Though he is much keener on squashing his creations than I would like. Truth be told, I joined in with some tunnel action of my own, cosying up with my inner architect.

There was also ice cream (a very decent rum’n’raisin), a long walk that included a short pier, a peer at a pirate ship (J announced that he is going to have ‘loads of boats’), 

We missed the cricket festival by a couple of days (dang!) and didn’t get the chance to take a look at the Stephen Joseph Theatre either. So a return visit will be needed.

On his return home, J decided that by wrapping a towel round his waist he was no longer J-Bone and was now ‘a man’. It’s really that simple. Wish he’d been around to tell me that when *I* was two!

(He was J again when he took it off, by the way.)

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