My son and I have a tradition. As he isn’t six yet it’s not exactly a longstanding one, but it is one I hope to enjoy with him for many years to come. On the last day of the long summer holidays we take a trip to Cleethorpes, in Yorkshire, and enjoy a day at Pleasure Island, a theme park. It’s not the most popular theme park in the UK, but therein lies its attraction.
Not for us the lengthy queue-times, or wallet-cripplingly high entrance fees, oh no. We get to enjoy a day of pretty much instantly going on any rides we like (and that my son is tall enough for) at a reasonable rate. OK, so some of the rides aren’t exactly top-of-the-range, but my son is young, and he doesn’t care.
So here for you are a selection of photos from our day out together.
(Oh, and in case you are wondering why my daughter isn’t with us, that’s because she’s in nursery. Take them both to the theme park? on my own? are you insane?).
The start of the day. A gloomy start, but we were lucky and the weather held off for the most part. We got there ten minutes before they opened, and my son managed to beat his personal best score of 110 utterances of the question ‘Is it open yet Daddy?’ in that space of time. New record is 121.
We always go on the peddaloes first, and the guy always tells us ‘stay away from the sides of the lake’ and my son always steers us into the sides of the lake.
Waiting for the train, it transports you around the park. It’s not an especially large park, but it’s a nice touch.
My son, who is quite timid as a rule, made me go on this. A log-flume like ride in a dark wet tunnel. I don’t like heights. Look at how high that thing is.
The obligatory cuddly toy. I got it from a ‘guaranteed win’ machine for £2. Took me ten minutes, he was very specific. Had to be brown. I was sweaty and aggressive by the time I finally grabbed the thing.
An Alpaca that, despite the warning signs, steadfastly refused to spit at my son. That would have made his day.
On the monorail. Giving us epic views of everything from 8 feet in the air.
This looks like Cape Canaveral (is that spelled right?) as opposed to a gloomy day in Cleethorpes.
Can’t go to the seaside without buying an ice cream.
Mr happy. He was put out because I didn’t want to lose more money playing games that you can’t win – where you have to knock down three tins – and thus meaning he wouldn’t be going home with a three-foot-tall Super Mario.
All smiles again.
The chap manning this ride was bereft of intelligence, wit, charm and, almost, his trousers, due to an unfortunate lack of belt. Seriously, I thought he’d wandered in from the set of Hot Fuzz (yarp!).