by Sue Cavanagh

“Hurry up,” shouts m’mum, “or we’ll be late”
We’re off to the seaside
With buckets and spades,
Picnic basket and umbrellas.

All excited and full of joy
Making for the rickety, rackety, rusty old bus
“Come, come, get on board, make haste”
On we trundle: m’mum, m’sister, m’brother and me.

“Are we there yet?” I ask
It feels like five hours we’ve been on the road
“Oh, be quiet,” says m’mum,
“We’re only at the bottom of ar street!”

Nearing our destination, m’mum says,
“First one to see the sea gets a sweet.”
“There it is,” I shout with glee,
Liquorice allsort, just for me.
Down the prom, onto the beach,
Feeling the sand between our toes,
Warm sun on our faces and the smell of the sea,
Mum hires a deckchair and falls fast asleep.

In competition with m’sister to build the finest sandcastle,
(She always wins)
M’brother terrifies us with a crab in his grubby hand,
Down to the sea for a paddle we go,
Foamy waves and seaweed wrap round our ankles like slippery eels.

“Fish ’n’ chips, who’s for fish ‘n’ chips?”
Yells m’mum , “Picnic will do for later.”
“Yippee”, we scream, so off we run
To the kiosk on the pier.

With ar’ tummies full and feeling tired
We make our way back to the bus,
All curled up on m’mum’s soft lap,
Dreaming of our day out by the sea.