There is seaside, and there is...seaside. Or, you get there and the sea is nowhere to be seen. For sea-sightseeing, a mile walk in the mud sorts you out. When you finally reach it, you'll waltz in it like my baby did. Or perhaps not.
What is certain is that there can't be many worse ways of spending a wedding anniversary than driving for 3 hours to do this. And whilst doing so, do what married couple do best: bicker for the best part of it.
Leave too late because you're simply too tired to do otherwise, take the wrong exit on motorways, have horses and an impressive variety of agricultural vehicles interpose themselves between you and this Arcadia of your desire, have your sat-nav lead you to the restaurant with the best reviews only to get lost in the middle of nowhere, and finally arrive at destination hungry and angry and having to face very soon the trip back ('cause there's work tomorrow), while you cannot help but wonder why everything always has to go wrong for you...
Still, not everything has gone wrong. 7 years down the road (excuse the pun) you're here, together, and you take with you the memory of the presents you found for each other on the beach: a little green plastic heart, a black chestnut...That, is good. And that keeps you going. There are paradises that we imagine, we dream of, we work for, we artificially invent, we fight for, we spend our life in the vain attempt to reach...when Arcadia is perhaps up for grabs in the mud.
