After a rather difficult summer, my parents and I finally got round to going on a much needed holiday. Of course, my blogger’s brain latched on to the opportunity to get some posts out of it, so I decided to write a little diary entry at the end of each day in the hope that it will count as blogging. Chuck in some aesthetically pleasing photos of cappuccinos and beach huts and hope for the best, I say.
Day one did not start well. We went to visit our cat at the vets before setting off for Suffolk, and then I spilt half a cup of McDonalds coffee directly onto my crotch in the car. So that was really great. Thankfully, things started to improve (let’s just ignore the rain, shall we?) when we arrived at a lovely National Trust place for lunch. Obvs because we’re weird and English we sat in the car with a flask of tea and our M&S sandwiches before going into the tea rooms and spending £10 on coffee and a date and apple slice. Apparently Constable painted some pictures of the scenery, but tbh we were only there for the tea rooms.
Once we’d finally made it to our cottage (and realised that it’s about 5 degrees colder than we thought) we wrapped up in multiple fleeces in preparation for a bracing stroll along the beach. As we walked past the pub, we almost forgot about the walk and went straight in for a pint, but we restrained ourselves and headed to the sea. Because of the clocks going back, the sun was just setting, which made for a perfect backdrop to the colourful beach huts that line Southwold beach. We’ve got one hired for later in the week (I mean, it’s going to be freezing), so we went in search of ‘ours’, Dad proudly leading the way. Unfortunately, ‘ours’ looked a little worse for wear, but let’s be honest, a beach hut is a beach hut, and we’ve got our tins of G&T ready, so I think we’ll be okay.
By 5.30pm we were ensconced in the pub, playing ‘Pass the Pigs’ and drinking our first pints of the holiday. The pub was full of dogs and men wearing shorts, which pretty much sums up Southwold tbh. As we unwound our scarves and de-layered, we realised we are just not quite as hardy as these coastal folk.