Oh for a pound every time I was asked this as a teenager growing up in the 1960s! I live, you see, beside the seaside. Back in those days few people went abroad so Paignton Beach was ramjampacked with holidaymakers. I often had to pick a very careful path through people eating their picnic sandwiches, being careful not to knock over their thermos flasks of tea. Children were everywhere, building sandcastles and licking ice-cream that mostly dripped onto the sand in the heat. It seemed to be hotter in summer in those days, and for longer. Come August, the air would often be cleared by an almighty thunderstorm…..lightning cracked and lit up the sky, and the rain came down in stair rods. But it was all soon over, and the sun came out again.

My Aunt Frances and Uncle Jona had no children and a house with many spare bedrooms, so in the summer they took in visitors on a Bed and Breakfast and Evening Meal basis.  Many came from the north and this Devon Dumpling struggled to understand their accents. When I was 13 or so I used to go and help my aunt serve the fried breakfasts. And often her guests would ask if I’d like to go with them in the car to Dartmoor or the South Hams where the sand was white and not red as it is in Paignton. Oh happy days…..although I was never on holiday really.

I am naturally quite dark-skinned. My hair was raven-black way back then. I was often asked if I was Greek, or possibly Spanish. And way back then there was no sun screen whatsoever. The beach was often awash with not only the smell of seaweed and candyfloss, but also Ambre Solaire …..and the local sun-tanning speciality – olive oil and vinegar mixed. No extra virgin olive oil either……this was those little bottles from Boots or Timothy Whites that you bought to unblock waxed up ears. We sort of fried in the sun….makes me shiver to think of it now!

My mother made me a huge towelling changing tent contraption. It had a hole for my head and slits for my arms and came down to my ankles. Once inside I could disrobe modestly, emerging in my seersucker bathers, and later a home-made denim bikini – oh how I loved that bikini, and wish I’d kept it.

But how times change! Not just the weather either, although last Monday, 27th May, my husband, grandson Alexander, and I were the only ones on the beach – the sun was out but there was a terrific wind, and it was bitingly cold. No wonder most people go abroad, but I have to say that trip to the beach with Alexander had the same magic for him, as he built a huge sandcastle and then proceeded to tunnel through it very happily wrapped up against the elements, as it’s always had for me. More people go abroad for (almost) guaranteed sunshine these days but on a good day there’s nowhere better then my home beach to be.

My bikini days are long gone, but I still like to paddle and – when the water’s warmed up considerably come September – take a dip as well.

So, here’s a seaside picture for you although not a picture of me in a bikini – or even my Spanx bathers – to frighten the horses….