This was one of those impromptu days where you end up going wherever your nose leads you, and it works out to the good. It started out with me playing taxi driver and chaperone to my mum, who had a hospital appointment in Liverpool. We drove from Stockport to Liverpool, and after the appointment, we decided it was too nice a day to just head home, so I suggested Lytham St. Annes.
Like a complete dope, I thought Lytham was only just north of Southport, and indeed it is, but necessarily via Preston and over the Ribble, via the M55 and far & away. Hey ho. We got there in the end and found the parking on the seafront easy. Mum was feeling well enough to walk along the promenade, into the town where we had fish and chips al fresco, and then through some of the funky arcade novelty/antiques shops, and back again to walk along to the windmill. We spent some time lingering on a bench looking out across the Ribble, in the gentle lucency of the sun, cosseted by a warm tidal breeze. In all, it was a perfect unplanned visit to the seaside capped off with an obligatory ice cream.
Although it was a good week before the equinox, there was a sense of harmony and balance in nature that day. The tide swelled and swallowed up the estuary and rickety jetty. The sun arced boldly across the sky, seeking its rest and extinguishment in the Irish sea. The journey back was uncomplicated. We had waited for rush hour to peter out before we set off, and the sky was illuminated by a scarlet sunset awash with magic and awe.
