…sounds like something out of Enid Blyton, doesn’t it?

When we went to St Mary’s Island last year, we went in February, and discovered it to be bloody freezing as well as being somewhat windy.

So when by the power of internet access over my mobile phone I realised that it was low tide and we’d be able to get out to the island, we decided to curtail our aimless amble around the Metro Centre and instead take a trip to the seaside. Back to St Mary’s Island, this time in July.

Granted, the skies are a touch grey, but it doesn’t look too bad. Although the bigger problem is by the time we get to the seaside, the GLW and little SWP are completely knackered and decided to go to sleep in the car, so it’s left to me and BTP to explore the island ourselves…

One of the ideas behind going to the seaside is that we can theoretically have a day out without enormous expenditure, so the plan is to avoid things like “the gift shop” and “the tea room”. I don’t mind spending a couple of quid on admission to the lighthouse itself, although I am slightly wary because last time we did this I had to carry BTP up the one hundred and thirty seven rather steep steps, and that was difficult enough seventeen months ago.

Now he’s bigger. Fortunately my fears of suffering muscle strain are eased by the news that the lighthouse is currently being renovated (something of a theme for this weekend, but more on that in a later post…) and therefore there is no public admission to the lighthouse itself.

Well, we’ll just have to cope somehow…

…we’d spotted a World War II pillbox on the western side of the island as we were on our way across the causeway, so wandered over to have a look at that. We had to clamber across a bit of a wall to even get up close to it, and then there was an enormous pile of jagged rubble piled in front of it, which we took as a kind of a subtle hint that we weren’t supposed to actually go in so contented ourselves with having a bit of a peer at it…

By now the light drizzle had turned more into a persistent — yet still light — rain and so we decided to go off around the island and do a little more exploring.

From the north side of the island, looking back around to the west, we could see across to the causeway. It was onlt about two o’clock, and high tide wasn’t due for another three hours, so I reckoned we still had quite a bit of time before we’d need to hurry back, but I wanted to make sure I kept on eye on it, as I wasn’t too keen on getting my feet wet!

Bizarrely, St Mary’s Island on a July afternoon was quieter than it had been the previous February. Granted, it was raining, and the lighthouse was shut, and the Wimbledon Ladies Final was just about to start on the telly, but still…

…okay, and granted it was raining a little heavier now too…

…but that wasn’t stopping us from having fun; BTP was thrilled to find a path that led us around the other side of the lighthouse, and even if it did end with a metal fence preventing us from getting any further (again, owing to the painting and window replacement going on), that didn’t stop him from being able to have fun by … well, simply standing beside a life belt and pointing to it.

Sometimes, it’s an awful lot of bloody hard work to be a parent. And sometimes it’s just fun.

…even if it really was raining somewhat heavily by now.

I was wearing a light cloth jacket which was beginning to feel just as wet on the inside, and while BTP might have looked somewhat damp and miserable, he was feeling anything of the sort.

I suggested that it might be time to sort of, you know, be thinking of going back to the car now, because we were both absolutely soaked and the GLW was going to somewhat knack me for letting him get so wet, but he was absolutely adamant that he wasn’t going anywhere.

I had to come up with some sort of compromise (well, either that or have a massive big argument) and so suggested that we go back to the car, get a nice warm drink and hang on for about twenty minutes or so to see if the rain would stop. BTP’s not stupid though, and he knew as well as I did that the rain was not very likely to stop, so asked what would happen if it didn’t.

So I said that if the rain didn’t stop, we could go out somewhere again the next day. And that seemed to work.

He just had time to run quickly across some rocks already slippery with seaweed and made yet more slippery by the rain, to the end of the section where he could look down at an eight foot drop to the jagged rocks and churning waters below, before I called him back to…

…naah, I just put that bit in to make my mother freak out, if she reads it. He was probably about twenty feet away, and the rocks were wet, but there was no seaweed on them, there was no great drop to the next set of rocks (well, maybe about five inches), and he hadn’t scampered over at all — we’d both gone over carefully together, and then he’d stood still while I went back to take a photo because he thought it would be funny to scare Grandma.

Bless him. He’s just like his dad…

And then we made our way back to the car, where we hammered on the windows because the GLW had put the central locking on while she and SWP had a doze, but we managed to get in where we were delighted to find that the car had a couple of blankets in it so we were able to remove our coats and wrap up nice and warm before calling in at the little burger shop for a hot drink…

Obviously, the rain didn’t stop — well, not until about six hours later, anyway — so we just went home and got nice and warm and nice and dry.

Right, so if you go to St Mary’s in February, you’ll find it bloody freezing, and windy. If you go in July, you’ll find it … bloody freezing and wet. I guess that’s just the North-East coast for you: the ‘bloody freezing’ is taken as given, and any other weather is just randomly allocated on top of that!

Still, as we expected, me and BTP had a lovely time (and there’s another half-dozen photos if you want to see ‘em) … the only thing was that I now owed him another day out…