Britain’s obsession with beaches has gone too far – after lockdown, I’d rather stay in with the blinds closed

In the UK, it’s almost rude to admit that you don’t like it when the weather is as hot as it has been. But after those sights in Bournemouth, I’m coming clean anyway

I fear that I’m risking my British passport being revoked but I need to say this; I’m not bothered about beach holidays.

I love the beach itself, but noisy breaks with people trooping en masse to get their money’s worth of sand and sunshine are stressful for those of us who like to cartwheel without maiming anybody. I went to Kavos when I was 20 on one of those obligatory sweaty, drunken clubbing holidays and decided after the cheerless check-up at the STD clinic when we got back that that sort of thing must never happen again in my life.

That said, I love the sea. The sea itself would always get a five-star review from me on TripAdvisor. Seeing the sea is an essential part of being human and one of the most magnificent sights on planet Earth (Sometimes, the sea itself is so magnificent that it makes me write poetry, which, quite aptly, belongs in it.)

I’ve had glorious days by the seaside. Priory Bay on the Isle of Wight, I can confirm, is hands down the best place to make friends with a bunch of welcoming strangers and spend a happy hour burying a massive tree stump together. Brighton beach was the site of many childhood holidays. The happiest snapshots in my mind are with family and friends on a beach. But space is key. When the lockdown eased and temperature went up, no part of me thought, “best pack the kids in the car, sit in traffic and snuggle up with a gazillion other families on some sand. We need to take enough poo bags for the dog AND ourselves.”

Seeing pictures of people on Bournemouth beach and the Jurassic Coast was baffling this week. Unless your thing is not being able to move without sitting on someone else, it didn’t look fun. Perhaps I should be more open-minded; defecating in an old burger carton may well be a little-known joy, and if people want to leave it sitting on the beach for someone else to pick up, then that’s their prerogative. Who am I to “poo-on-a-beach”-shame anyone.

I get that lockdown has been hard, especially in a flat and especially with kids, and I’m not saying that ALL of the people on Bournemouth beach contributed to the over 40 tonnes of rubbish left behind. I’m merely saying that everyone who put themselves through it has a bizarre sense of “fun”.

Us Brits have a traditionally grey and gloomy climate, so when the sun is out the pressure to “make the most of it” can be intense. My daughter and I play a game of “spot the naked men”. She is intrigued by the fact that so many men wander around with their nipples out from the moment the sun puts its hat on and comes out to play.

I don’t want to “make the most of it” when it’s hot. Attempting to invariably involves crowds of other people doing the same and personally, I am much happier taking a stroll on the beach when it’s drizzling rather than getting all hot and bothered in an ice cream queue behind a man whose skin is peeling like a Wall’s sausage.

A friend of mine lives in Chichester. Inviting us to visit, he said: “We’ll look at the weather forecast and arrange a day when it’s nice so we can take the kids and the dog to the beach.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d rather come in the sheeting rain when we can all just sit in his house and have a natter, as opposed to the whole rigmarole of organising a beach trip with the kids and dog. As I write this, my dog is looking at me and nodding in full agreement. She’s a golden retriever, so has a double coat. We both enjoy staying in with the blinds closed until the evening.

It’s almost rude in the UK to admit that you don’t like it when the weather is as hot as it has been. The answer to every glitch in life in weeks like this is, “Oh well, at least the weather is nice.” Yes. I suppose the sound of my inner thighs slapping together on a hot dog walk and a heat headache does take the sting out of a global pandemic somewhat.

This easing of lockdown has not come about because there are fewer cases of Covid-19, it’s in part because it looks like hospitals can cope for now. Boris Johnson told us all to “stay alert”, trusting the great British public to not be utter tools. Well, we can’t be trusted and it would serve us right if beaches were closed. I can already hear the sea breathing a sigh of relief.