The British Seaside Spirit

From the perspective of a ridiculously wet and foggy day, I conclude that you just have to admire the British seaside spirit.  When I was a kid, people hid behind structurally unsound windbreaks on breezy days. Now they have fashionable tent-like structures in bright colours, that look gale-proof. Parents sit huddled in their demi-tents with towels wrapped around shivering shoulders whilst their apparently weather-proof children build sandcastles, dig vast holes and collect seashells. On freezing cold grey days, like today, ice-creams are consumed with grim determination. Damp families head inland to see what indoors entertainment the county has provided for its soggy tourists. On steaming hot days, children are painted with sun-block whilst their parents work on getting as lobster-red as possible, risking sunburn because it's so important to make the most of it whilst the sunshine lasts. The teenage generation, too young to give up on the fun, but too old to enjoy the beach on any but the most complex terms, provide a curious fashion parade, more wine-bar than beach ware, so charmingly self-conscious. I like the seaside. I think it brings out the best in our muddled country - the sheer doggedness to get out there and enjoy it, come hell, high water and the crazy extremes of our ever-fluctuating British weather.