“But it isn’t,” eleven-year-old David said, shoving the brochure back into the display case at the Sea Life Centre.
“Isn’t what?” his grandmother asked.
“A Golden Mile,” David said matter-of-factly.
“But Great Yarmouth is the Golden Mile,” she said.
“First of all,” David began, “Google says the beach here is over a mile long. Secondly, it is hardly golden. It’s just sand.”
“So at least a mile is gold coloured,” Grandmum suggested.
“Then they should say come to Great Yarmouth with its approximately one mile of yellowish sand,” he said defiantly.
Seeing she wasn’t going to win this, she said, “Why don’t we get an ice cream and go over to the beach at Gorleston?
Padre
115 Words
Padre's Ramblings 
I do remember making the same objection. Maybe the *gold* refers to the profits fleeced from the punters in the resort’s heyday?
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May well be. I still enjoy going there though.
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And, from curiosity, I just measured the beach. From boundary with Casiter, to river’s mouth (and time was, there were holiday caravans all along there) measures over three and a half miles. I think the mile is a modern measure, probably from the Pleasure Beach to the end of the Waterways … where all the amusements are.
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Ice cream is always a good plan.
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Things are so often hard to figure out when you’re eleven. Ice cream helps.
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I can definitely see his point. But enough ice cream and I’m willing to call any beach “golden.” 🙂
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Really liked your short amusing story! It was a great, refreshing read! 🙂
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lol That kid’s going to grow up to be a lawyer.
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Well, a Golden Mile always sounds better than ‘A sort of grubby brown mile strewn with chip trays’ which is often more accurate of British seaside resorts! Love the conversation and the logic of a child
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