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'We're going to the seaside,' Aunt Meg said.

We lived in a back to back terrace as close as peas in a pod with three aunts and all my cousins. I wondered what the sea was like. My school teacher read a poem to us that spoke of 'white lipped waves' but none of the family had seen the sea. Gran let me listen to its low moan in a shell, captured like a genie in a bottle.

I didn't expect to be included in the outing. I suppose they wanted me along to help look after the little ones or maybe as they were taking my little sister Janey they felt they couldn't leave me out.

Excitement kept all the cousins bubbling, laughing jumping. All except Janey she was not long out of hospital and had to wear an iron on her spindly little leg.

The grownups bustled: Lemonade and Sandwiches to be made, Colwick cheese and cucumber for the grown ups, jam for the kids. Aunt Meg called through the scullery hatch door. 'Are we all ready? Tell the kids to have a pee,' she shouted as she put the flask of tea in the bag along with the sandwiches and home-made lemonade.

My cousins were beside ourselves with excitement as we boarded the bus. Soon we left the town behind. 'Are we nearly there?' One after the other asked every ten minutes. Noses pressed to windows, cries of, 'look; moo cows, bobos, baa lambs.'

At last the shout, 'There's the sea.' A blue grey strip visible on the horizon quickly followed by 'We're here!'

'Right,' Uncle Les, Aunt Meg's husband said as we stopped outside the shop on Lumley Road. 'Big uns can have spades and little uns buckets.'

My six year old cousin Henry chose a small wooden spade, 'So's Janey can play with it,' he explained. Keith and Frankie the eight year old twins, took big red metal ones and dragged them along the road revelling in the music they made. A red tin bucket decorated with ubiquitous yellow fish, for Janey. I was fourteen and too old for toys.

'Take deep breaths, smell the ozone,' Uncle Les instructed.

'Is that what it is? I thought it was shrimps.' Aunt Meg retorted with a laugh.

The huge beach of yellowy brown sand stretched before us and beyond it the sea. The beach was crowded with trippers and it took a little while to find a space. Uncle Les fetched two funny canvas chairs. He said they were called deck chairs. I supposed it was because every time he tried to set them up they collapsed. I sussed it out though. Soon the grown ups were settled and the kids were happily digging. It wasn't long though before they were bored.

'I want to paddle,' the cousins shouted in unison.

'You can't go in the water yet. Eat up your sandwiches and get acclimatised,' Aunt Meg said.

'Oh it'll be time to go home soon.' They cried in unison.

I stood up and stretched. 'I'm going for a swim,'

'Oh no you're not,' Uncle Les was firm for once.

'Why not? I can swim.'

'Swimming in sea is different to swimming in the Cut.'

The 'Cut' was where most of his generation had cooled off on hot summer days. 'Anyway you haven't got any bathers and you can't go showing the little girls your tea pot.'

'Fish might take it for a worm and bite it off, then where would you be?' Aunt Meg screamed with laughter and the others joined in.

That made me mad, I can tell you. They had no right treating me like a kid. I was fourteen and starting work tomorrow.

At last Aunt Meg said it was time to go for a paddle. 'Here Janey tuck your dress in your knickers and you lads roll up your trouser legs, if the bottoms get wet they'll make your knees sore.'

Uncle Les rolled up his trousers above the ankles while the youngsters did their best to turn theirs further above their knees. Aunt Meg tucked her frock into the elastic of her knicker legs. I took a snapshot of all of them with a Brownie camera.

Six year old Henry clung tightly to his Mum's hand his mouth turned down at the corners, he shivered. The sea didn't sing for him which wasn't surprising it wasn't blue like the picture books. It was cold grey and fearsome.

Keith and Frankie dashed in and out the waves kicking and splashing each other while Janey, in Aunt Meg's grasp, jumped the waves tugging aunty ever further until she cried, 'Enough, I've wet my knickers.'

At last, protesting, they returned to the deck chairs where I sat watching. I was too old to paddle!

'Who wants a donkey ride?' Uncle Les asked.

'Me, me,' they all cried.

'Not you, Janey, you stay here.' He led the boys away, whistling like the Pied Piper.

Aunt Meg settled back in her deck chair, eyes closed against the unfamiliar brightness. The wind carried sand to whip our legs and cheeks. I lay on my stomach content in the feel of the sun, the sound of the waves and the sea gulls cry. Time drifted away on the tide.

Uncle Les woke us. 'Who wants an okey-pokey?' He had a fist full of cornets, the ice-cream running down his fingers. 'Where's Janey?'

We were dragged from sleep, cheeks flushed and already sore, to find the wooden spade and little tin bucket lying forlorn.

'I'll bet she's gone for another paddle.' Aunt Meg cried in alarm. Without stopping to put on her glasses, and she was practically blind without them, she ran towards the sea calling; 'Janey! Janey!' She groped in the water like a mad woman and frightened youngsters by peering into their faces sobbing and screaming.

'I'll find her,' I said.

I searched the beach weaving in and out amongst the crowds, asking everyone if they had seen a little girl with an iron on her leg. Ten minutes searching seemed hours.

My heart sank when I saw a crowd gathered and shouting near one of the groynes. Somehow I knew Janey was there. I ran to them and pushed my way through. She was sitting up to her neck in the sea and the incoming tide swirling round her. All those people shouting at her to come out and she wasn't moving. I took off my shoes and socks rolled up my trousers and paddled out to scoop her up. I'd have liked to take my trousers off but with all those folk watching -

They cheered me as I carried her out. Except for one woman who shouted at me for not watching over my sister.

I felt a bit of a fool running along the beach with my wet trousers flapping round my ankles and a kid in my arms.

When I reached Aunt Meg she took hold of Janey. 'You little madam,' she sobbed.'I need eyes in the back of my head.'

Uncle Les slapped me on the back and promised to buy me a pint.

It was a day to remember. Nor was it over when we returned to the bus and a feast of chips tangy with salt and vinegar washed down with a swallow of beer. We sang, 'Daisy, Daisy,' and 'It's a Long Way to Tipperary,' until tired eyes drooped and Uncle Les suggested we all had a kip.

Dad was waiting at the bus station to carry Janey home.

'You've caught the sun.'He said.

'Yes, It's done us a power of good,' Aunt Meg replied. 'Sea, sand and ozone what more could anyone want?'

'A bucket and spade,' the children chorused. Uncle Les slipped a tanner in my hand and whispered, 'have a pint on me. Don't say owt about Janey'

I nodded, Mam would go berserk if she knew.

I've still got that tanner it reminds me of the day I was acknowledged as a man!

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