A Great British Summer

January, the month in which people are supposed to spend in a state of morbid depression, a fact now celebrated by an unofficial date that is officially known as 'Blue Monday'. A day in the month which scientists reckon that they have proven, beyond any reasonable doubt to be the most miserable day of the year! Last Monday, instead of feeling blue, Stephanie, Oliver and I decided that the only possible remedy would to be to book a holiday and give us all a reason to live again!

Both Stephanie and I know that, baring any financial miracle that 2011 is to be a year of consolidation, settling some overrun debts from our wedding last year, whilst planning for the future and providing Oliver with a long awaited sibling. Our plans to slowly circumnavigate the globe, or to rebuild our home have been put on ice and have been replaced instead by the Karma Sutra and “50 Thrifty Ways to Manage your Weekly Budget”. When Stephanie's parents asked us then, would we fancy a long weekend away in Dorset – we positively jumped at the chance!

By adding Dorset to the pomp and pageantry of Aprils Royal Wedding, plus Oliver's August trip to Devon with my parents and Octobers half-term sojourn to an as yet, undecided English Riviera, this year is shaping up to be a very patriotic affair! And why not? They put the world “Great” next to Britain for a reason!

There is something uniquely special about the quintessential English seaside town. People my age and from my home town will remember long car trips down to the coast, probably to Margate to ride the Scenic Railway at Bembom Brothers, or Dreamland, however you referred to by name the very same place. A place that had a big wheel that was fashionable long before all the big cities started doing it. A place that since my generation, has been in terminal decline.

Margate, like many places dotted around the country have clearly seen better days, but there are still some crown jewels sprinkled around our island. Weymouth was a place where, as kids, we went off for the weekend, slept in tents on the shores overlooking Chesil Beach and had carefree days bathing in the waters of Weymouth harbour, a beach naturally sheltered so that you could walk out for miles and still be barely submerged.

It's been a few years since I've been to Weymouth, but being a water-sports venue for the Olympics next year, I'm expecting her to be looking at her very best - in preparation for being under the glare of the worlds eyes in eighteen or so months time.

But before then, Stephanie and I, along with Stephanie's parents get to enjoy five days of educating Oliver on some of life's finer things. The familiar, feel good soundtrack of the seaside penny arcade, and the strong sticky smell of beach confectionery, toffee apples and candyfloss, sticks of teeth breaking rock mingled in with the staple of an all English summer, fish and chips!

Here's keeping our fingers crossed that other Great British tradition doesn't rear it's ugly head, the unpredictable weather!