Two Go To Smuggler's Cove...

...well, not Smuggler's Cove exactly. Camber Sands.

Andy knew something was up when I started hard boiling eggs this morning.

'What shall we do today?' he said.
'We're going to the sea-side,' I said, with grim determination. 'I am making a picnic.'
Andy didn't exactly shout 'Hurrah!' but I could tell he was secretly pleased at my taking charge of the arrangements of the day,which included the decision about where to go.

So, picnic packed in picnic basket - pitta breads, salad, eggs, tuna, cheese, yogurts, apples, strawberries and lashings of elderflower cordial - other bags loaded with sun block, hats, towels, baby wipes (in case we came across any babies that needed wiping), bottles of drink, reading material and a couple of folding chairs, off we set for Camber Sands.

I haven't been to Camber for donkey's years. My grandparents used to take us kids there in the 70's when we were little. My Grandad would force feed us Cornettos which we thought was great but was not appreciated by my Mum. Camber has wide open sandy beaches, tacky beach shops that sell buckets, spades, inflatables, windmills and windbreaks, and ice cream/ fish and chip/ candy floss/ winkle stalls which charge exorbitant prices and get away with it because by the time you've walked up the beach to where they are all situated, chances are you are suffering heatstroke and your capacity for reasoned financial thinking had been severely affected.

We went the picturesque route, which created feelings of violent jealousy in us as we passed through pretty little villages dotted with pretty little houses. 'We want one of those,' we said and made wild plans about how we were going to get a little cottage in the countryside, given that we didn't win the lottery last night. The countryside gradually transformed into the wild stretches of the Romney Marsh. There were many sheep. Woolly sheep, shorn sheep, sheep as big as your head. (Or maybe that was perspective). And then the horizon flattened and the coast appeared and we had arrived.

The first change I noticed was that we got charged for parking.
'£5.50 for 2-4 hours???!!' I spluttered. 'You used to be able to park for free!'
We decided to leave the picnic in the car and go for a beach exploration first, then return for the picnic once we'd had a paddle. In order to reach the beach at Camber, you can a) park at the first car park and climb the almost vertical sand-dunes or b) park in the second car park and walk straight onto the beach. We did the first option, mostly because I had forgotten that option b) existed. Well, as I said, it had been donkey's years...

Half way up the dunes, Andy was puffing and we were both grinding to a halt. I was laughing, I don't know why because there isn' t really anything funny about climbing a dune where for every two steps you take forward, you slip one back. I also reminded Andy about the time he took me to Formby Sands in Lancashire which also had vertiginous dunes and he said the sea was only a couple of minutes away but it turned out to be at least a half an hour yomp during which I trod on a dessicated frog and nearly died, so please don't complain about our pathetic southern sand dunes. But we made it to the top and the beach spread before us. It was shoes off and head for the sea.

The tide was way, way out. We strode across the sand, memories of collecting shells and wading through swathes of mud flooding back. We paddled, we walked back, we marched up the dunes again until our lungs burst, we decided to eat lunch in the car park

Okay, okay, we should have returned to the beach and done proper picnicking but at least it wasn't the hard shoulder of the M25. We said, 'we should get a camper van and then we could brew a cuppa and make toast.'

We ate and read our books and then we walked up the other end of Camber and I remembered the other car park which led straight to the beach avoiding the dunes. I bought us 99 ice creams (the one with the chocolate flake, NOT 99 actual ice creams) as recompense and we went for another walk on the beach, admiring the varied and sometimes bizarre houses that line the coast. Then we returned to the car and read a bit more, and Andy snored for a bit and then we came home via the non-scenic route which wasn't as pretty but was quicker.

It was a good 1970's retro-nostalgia-Famous-Five-yomping-up-and-down-sand-dunes day. And having imbibed rather a lot of ozone, I am feeling very, very sleepy, so I'm going for a nap. Night, night!