It was with some degree of trepidation that I acceded to Cornelius' request for a day trip to the seaside. I am by nature a creature of towns. I prefer the murk of an afternoon pub, the quiet of the library, the comforting smell of spilled petrol and the lullabies of the drunks. The seaside seems so much. It is a sensory overload. the gaudy buckets, the jangling arcades, whatever candyfloss actually is. But my housemate was insistent that he needed some sea air, and so the coast it was to be. He had claimed that, as I had picked the location of our last excursion, it was his turn. I had countered this by saying all I had suggested was a trip to the pub the previous evening, but he staid that still counted. Gracefully, I conceded the point, and so we made post haste for the sea. I will confess that once I had got used to the intensity of the sunshine I began to enjoy myself, a change is as good as a rest, as my dear old Nana used to say, which explains why she owned so many clothes ...