When I lived in the area, more years ago than I care to remember, we used to rate Grange-over-Sands as a sort of Bournemouth of the north. A place where the middle classes of the north-west chose to retire; not at all for ‘the likes of us’. I did have to go there once, when I was about fourteen years old.

 ‘What about your dinner?’ I was asked

 ‘I’ll get some fish and chips’ I said.

 

 Shock! Horror! A place like Grange wouldn’t have anything so vulgar as a fish-and-chip shop! said several people. Actually, there was … but it was closed. However, I did get to eat, and was highly amused to hear the waitress saying ‘scone’ to rhyme with ‘stone’ rather than ‘one’

 But, either the place has changed, or I’m being vastly unfair to it. (All right, I’m being unfair to Bournemouth, too!) Not physically changed; my father says he knows of nowhere else that has changed so little since he was a lad.

 The gardens are still there, and the ornamental ponds which are home to several species of duck and water-fowl. And, there’s an extensive promenade to walk along, with views of the Kent Estuary and Morecambe Bay. A slightly incongruous note, though … where you’d expect to see sea or sand, you see grass! That grass isn’t for walking on, though! Out there, there are quicksands, rapid tides and fast-flowing currents. The Kent Estuary bites, often and fatally!

 You can cross it, but only at certain times, in the company of an experienced and qualified ‘sand pilot’.

 At the end of the promenade is the swimming pool. It used to be rather art-deco-ish, and seemed to some to be the epitome of luxury. But now, it’s deserted, forlorn and boarded up, and seems to be deteriorating rapidly.

 Close at hand, though, is a kiosk that sells superb hot chocolate … I know I’m not supposed to have it, but I’m taking the statins regularly, my cholesterol count was satisfactory last time and there was a cold wind blowing so … why not?