Arbroath

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As the train I was on approached Arbroath I noticed a large structure down near the shore bearing the sign, 'PLEASURELAND'. This, was worrying. For the word 'pleasure' reminded me of a childhood holiday at Arbroath, and a 'Pleasure Cruise' that saw us feeding the fishes of the sea our stomach contents. It was a cruise that was meant to take in the caves, but there was such a vicious swell that we wouldn't be going anywhere near rocks. So we just bounced up and down instead. At one point someone shouted out, 'Look! A whale!' We all tried to look, but one minute the horizon was way up there, the next it was way down there, and every so often the front of the boat would rise out of the water as if launching itself vertically and then crash down to an accompaniment of excited squeals and groans of anguish. Mom was so bad that she had to lie down in the boat. I turned my head to look to my sister for reassurance and found she had adopted a fists- and teeth-clenched expression of considerable resolve. As Mom lay there, quietly leaking stuff and thinking she had had quite enough pleasure for one day, thank you, she honestly thought they would have to deploy a crane to get her out of the boat and back onto dry land. So, you will understand when I say that the prospect of more Arbroath 'pleasure' was something that sent a shiver down my spine and a gurgle in my gut. But I needn't have worried, for Arbroath is a lovely place, and being bounced up and down on the North Sea is not obligatory.