You can navigate bustling Heathrow and have your packed beach at St Tropez.
For me nothing can compare with, past the mobile home park, yes: Mablethorpe North End.
I love the blasting sun and arid bright blue sky, you say.
Give me the vast vista of an empty beach, for the mind a soothing silence to tend.
You can have your great crashing ocean Cornwall waves.
Let me wallow, up to my waist a hundred yards out in the gentle lapping North Sea.
You can have the azure ocean, give me the grey green wavelets, the cold fit for the brave.
You can brave the crowds, it’s the lone grey seal and wildfowl terns I want to see.
And after that what bliss, warm Coca Cola, a sandy sandwich and no signal for e-mail.
The jumper on, the wind break out to shelter from that bracing east wind.
You can have your fancy beach bar cocktail.
It’s ice cream for me at the end of the day, to the kids I want to be kind.
Here I can run three miles past rolling marram grassed sand dunes and barely meet a soul.
You only have the traffic homeward bound to toil.