In April this year I turned 28. I imagine any normal person in their late twenties has similar reservations when the count down to 30 becomes less than 2 years. The main thought that enters your mind being holy shit how did this happen? I only turned 21 a minute ago and now I’m dangerously close to being 30. A whole 30 years old. Getting older is better than the alternative though I suppose.
By now I should be making grown up decisions and have savings etc, but I’ve spent all my money on my puppy so I guess I’ll just be poor for a bit longer. At least Fletcher has 20 toys he will never play with and a really nice soft bed to hump.
But what I do have is a job that makes me stressed, and stress is the trademark of being an adult.
Since Fletcher and I don’t spend much time at home with the family I decided we would stay local-ish and go to Barry Island which is near Cardiff, it’s basically a beach with a fairground. And obviously was made famous by the Gavin and Stacey T.V series.
I LOVE Barry Island, we frequented the beach as kids, at the time it seemed so far away and exciting. When really its 45 minutes away and a bit dreary. I wanted to take my little Fletcher there for his first beach day, as well as wanting to take a ride on the famous log flume and the really terrible ghost train. Unfortunately, April in Barry is fucking freezing, so the fair ground was closed, despite the internet informing me otherwise, in fact the weather was so terrible nearly everything was closed.
Safe to say the birthday girl (me) was now being a sulky bitch, as it was bloody freezing, there was no log flume, I remained unterrified by the ghost train and I also needed a coffee.
Despite the shitty weather, the fact that NOTHING was open, and the Blackpoolian amongst us kept saying ‘not exactly Blackpool though is it’ we had quite a nice time watching Fletch run around trying to decide if he enjoyed the sand or not and the other dogs on the beach having the time of their lives. I wish I had the eternally optimistic mindset of a dog, a freezing day at the beach and still nothing on earth could be better. Whereas I’m stood shivering cursing the day I was born and wondering why does this have to be my local seafront and not Miami Beach.
There’s also a cliff edge, cliff wall thing, that I am obsessed with as you can see fossils in it.
We made friends with some French bulldogs who were also taking a stroll. Fletcher loves to socialise with other dogs so he was having a great time, although in these pictures I am holding him as they were quite boisterous and I didn’t want him to end up squished in a Frenchie sandwich.
It is safe to say that Fletcher is definitely similar to me as he really did not enjoy the horribly low temperatures and the sea air was not bracing it was just fucking unpleasant. He spent most of the time tucked into a jacket with just his little peanut head poking out. Hopefully next time we can go into the sea, or more realistically we can laugh at Fletcher panicking and running away from the waves rolling in and out.