Newspaper article The Journal (Newcastle, England)

Scarborough vs the Med? No Contest

Newspaper article The Journal (Newcastle, England)

Scarborough vs the Med? No Contest

Article excerpt


WHATEVER you think about the ConDem coalition, you must admit that the weather has perked up a treat since they took office. The only snag being that the letters pages will soon be full of global warming true believers bleating "I told you so".

As the weekend sun beat down, the two sides in the British Airways dispute came close to beating each other up, the Icelandic volcano probably just paused for breath and many of us reflected that our jobs are hanging by a gossamer thread that George Osborne and David Laws are about to slash. So why on earth risk booking a foreign summer holiday when there are seaside guesthouses the length and breadth of Britain desperate for our custom? You will discover the answer to this in August when you are sitting inside a grim, graffiti-covered Victorian shelter with sodden chip wrappers blowing around your ankles, watching the rain stream down the cracked and filthy windows while several OAPs shout at each other about how they have known worse, albeit when the Alton Towers log flume malfunctioned spectacularly during their annual coach trip.

"Real Blackwaterfoot weather" we called it in my family, after a less than successful childhood holiday on the Isle of Arran. Every drenched afternoon the cheery (by Scottish standards) lady hotelier would raise our spirits by promising that, on the morrow, we would experience "real Blackwaterfoot weather". And so we did. Several inches of it, often coming at us horizontally.

Still, at least there'll be plenty of time to read the newspapers, full of true believers' valuable insights into the freak downpours, often including the words "I told you so".

Yet I would not have it any other way. I hate going abroad, me. Not because of xenophobic prejudice. I simply hate going anywhere.

If I absolutely have to take baby Charlie on his first summer holiday, as I am told I must, I fancy St Abbs in Berwickshire. …

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