When my sister and I were really small our grandparents sometimes used to take us to Southend for the day. This was a special treat for us because, unlike outings with our parents, we were allowed into amusement arcades. Indeed not only that, but on arrival at the seaside we were each given a big bag of pennies with the instructions not to wander too far, while our guardians nipped off for some refreshments. Unchaperoned, we could roam freely among the flashing lights, mechanical novelties and shiny tat, and actually participate in as many of the games as our financial reserves allowed us. The hall of mirrors was a favourite. Not only could I lose my sister for minutes at a time once inside, but it took so long to find your way out again that it left us with piles of cash to squander as quickly as possible on the slot machines, I invariably spending the last of my fortune trying to get the mechanical crane to grab the plastic paratrooper (complete with parachute) I always wanted and never got hold of.

This was definitely the high point of the day, much of the rest of which seemed to involve being told to be quiet while nan and granddad napped on deckchairs. However, I do remember buckets and spades, and the occasional ride on the donkey, whose rough hair always reminded me of my grandparents leaking settee.

Then came the drive home. On the whole, this was ok, Suzy the ageing wire-haired terrier would play with my sister and I on the back seat or join us in looking out of the window, and time would pass as well as it ever does for any child on a long car journey. At a certain point we’d inevitably be told to “calm down” because “granddad’s trying to concentrate”, and by the end of the afternoon they’d be getting grumpy, but we both knew that grandparents get tired easily.

Then would come the really boring part of the day, when granddad would park the car outside a big house by the side of the road, wind up all the windows and nan would say “we’re just off to stretch our legs for a bit so sit quietly till we come back”.

I could never work out what ‘stretching our legs’ meant, as all they ever seemed to do was head straight for the big house, but it always seemed they were gone for hours and all my sister and I could do while we waited was look out of the windows and play I-spy. I wish I could remember the place better, but the only thing remarkable about it was a picture of a queen outside hanging on a couple of hooks. Eventually though, our grandparents would return, always in a much better mood, and the rest of the journey home would then fly by.