Coastal erosion...

Ooh, the seaside. The east coast. Bridlington. Took mother along for the ride and she fitted in well with her walking stick, as the proportion of able bodied folk to those with the odd faulty limb was, approximately, 60/40 in the wobbly walkers' favour. We took a lot of 2 pence pieces to rid ourselves of them in the slots, which took around ten minutes, then M took on the grabbing machines - and, a few quid later, was still no closer to getting a stuffed toy to drop down a chute. Our charming neighbour had informed us that we were in for a day of stormy weather, which would have ruined our plans to eat fish and chips and donuts whilst taking in the sea view, had her second hand meteorological knowledge been at all accurate. As it was, lots of grubby vest-clad tattooed women from Leeds were getting their exposed shoulders burnt.

Reading: Bukowski - Tales of Ordinary Madness