I love Frinton. It is genteel, old fashioned and with so little to do in the evenings that most of the younger population have decamped to the flesh pots of Clacton down the coast and the remaining residents are 70+. It is safe to say that Frinton is not known for its pizazz. It has only recently allowed a fish and chip shop to be opened having fought a rear guard action against such vulgar commerce for over forty years. What it does have going for it are lovely beaches and at certain times of the day these are deserted. From previous experience I know it is best to get there early so up this morning pack bag with towel, sun tan cream (very hot day predicted), bottle of water and book and get on the road. I was on the beach by 9.30 am - all to myself - bliss.
By 10.30 am the invasion began and with that unerring herd instinct displayed by all Brits on the Beach, be it Frinton or Faliraki, a family of beer bellied mother and father with their two children (Jade and Amber would you believe? Yes you would) parked themselves next to me despite the fact the rest of the beach was empty. Within five minutes of the tent being put up, wind breaker hammered into the beach, table, chairs and sunshade erected, cool box full of cans of beer opened, Jade and Amber started to whine, scream and hit each other. I decamped immediately but within half an hour was once more surrounded by identi-kit families so I gave up and came home.
I am aware that I am sounding like a candidate for the programme Grumpy Old Women and my prejudices are showing but I am not apologising for it.
I am now indoors with the curtains drawn, but windows open with a lovely gentle breeze and glass of home made iced lemonade to hand. This is much better....
