The Easter hols are just coming to an end (what a sad sentence that is) and so I have quite a bit to report on. We spent the first couple of days, when the weather was pretty vile, decorating our daughter’s bedroom (she had been deeply cutting, as she is wont to be, about the fact that we had, to her eyes, neglected this task whilst completing other, much less pressing, DIY tasks). Then we headed off for, in Travel Agents’ parlance, a City Break; TBH had booked us a couple of nights in Liverpool. We both did a bit of research before we set-off, but maybe weren’t thorough enough: our planned lunch stop at Rufford Old Hall was perfect aside from the fact that it was closed when we got there. We diverted to Formby, for the sand dunes and the pine woods, which I’ve long wanted to visit, but that was closed too. (‘For your safety’ the notice on the National Trust car park said.)
So then we drove to Crosby for Antony Gormley’s ‘Another Place’.
It wasn’t closed, but it was exceptionally windy; even before we reached the seafront, we could see sand drifting across the road. There were lots of couples sitting in their cars eating ice-creams, but nobody else was on the beach; it was almost as if they didn’t fancy being sand-blasted. It was really quite fierce – after a short stroll we found that we had sand in all of our pockets and in every other nook and cranny in our clothing.