Weston

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I’d never been to Weston super Mare before. So, as Charlie was going to a wedding on his own, I looked at where the train can take you from Bristol. And the little train goes all the way to Weston. So off we trotted, complete with enormous packed lunch for Alba and small to medium expectations.

We arrived with tonnes of other people in their summer Sunday best and spilled out  from the train station.  Alba and I followed the herd in the direction they were going, thinking they must be off to the beach, because the train station opened on to a big road and a Tesco – I expected the doors to open to the Grand Pier, obvs.

The Grand Pier is wild, isn’t it? Completely hectic, noisy and with enough sugar to generate power across France; the kids were bolting round on sugar highs, there were 99s being devoured and donuts being cooked, fizz, pop, whoooosh!

Suffice to say we were only on the pier for a minute and that was at the end of our trip. Before that we walked along the seafront, watched the RNLI do tricks in their boats and ate homemade cheese scones in the park with the arrogant squirrels. Alba had a nap too, which allowed me to drink an entire decaf cap. and scribble in my notebook – like I was in a spa.

The food options I could find didn’t appeal that much, apart from the obvious ice cream sundaes, so I ended up sharing some of Alba’s lunch and then she had some bits I picked up from M&S. I felt like I should have had fish and chips or something, but nope.

The absolute highlight for Alba was sprinkling sand all over herself and me, while cackling. And it’s pretty cool seeing a baby observing, feeling and generally, experiencing this whirlwind of a world we live in – the good, bad and bizarre, for the first time. She definitely likes the beach.

The train back involved her being absolutely thrilled and desperate to chat to every other child, then crashing outc Home for bath, books and cuddles.

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