Ghost Train

Some of you might remember Wilson's ill-fated 'Haunted Tours of Uckfield' which had to be cancelled at the last minute due to his fear of darkness and the supernatural. Emboldened by his recent success in facing his fear of water on the Canoe Ride, he has decided to confront his other terror by riding on the Ghost Train. Alone.

He purchased his ticket and took a seat in one of the cars. 

Nothing happened for a moment — then with a spine-chilling scream the ride burst into life and Wilson, gripping the hand-rail tightly, was borne away to face his demons in the unknown interior depths… 

Wilson tests his skill

Next stop on the pier was a booth where you could win toys by throwing darts. To win a toy you needed to score over 45, which Wilson whispered to me would be 'Pathetically easy!' 

As it turned out, it wasn't pathetically easy even to strike the dart board, and after a couple of turns W declared that darts was much harder than it looked on TV, where overweight drunken men somehow contrived to make it look simpler than it actually was.

I offered to buy him one of the toys, but W said that if he couldn't win it fair and square he'd rather go without.

The stall operator offered to sell us some of the Hello Kitty toys damaged by W's darts at half price, but W remained resolute. 

Before we left, though, Wilson handed the man one of his Consulting Detective cards, telling him not to hesitate to contact him should the need arise…

Bravery causes hunger — this is a well-known fact. Apparently.

Following his extreme bravery in facing his fear of water, Wilson was keen to rush off down the pier in search of further diversion. And snacks. Apparently there's nothing like a bit of bravery to pique one's appetite for junk food.

You're never far from a snack at the seaside — the smell of hot fat and burning sugar permeates the salty air like ozone…

Before he scooted off, though, he posed for a photo:

White Water Rafting!

One of the first rides we came across on the pier was this log-canoe ride. Wilson regarded it suspiciously, walking slowly round the perimeter and asking the operator how deep the water was at its deepest point. Reassured by his answer (four inches) he announced that he might, just might be persuaded to ride one of the canoes.

While I bought him a ticket he carefully inspected all the canoes to locate the one with the driest seats — and therefore, he reasoned, the one in which he was least likely to get wet. 

He insisted that I walk beside his canoe throughout the ride, and at the first sign of his vessel sinking I was to snatch him out and dry him. 'This could be like The Titanic all over again!' he told me, nervously.

When he finally disembarked the only wet part of him was his brow — with sweat! 

You'd have thought he'd been on The Big One at Blackpool, but for W, with his fear and dislike of water, it was a real achievement. 

I bought him a big Candy Floss [Cotton Candy] to reward his bravery.

Chuckle Brothers

Once we got to the pier we paused only to stock up on essential supplies (Donuts and Waffles) before heading out over the water in search of fun and adventure.

I am already experiencing some pressure to buy tickets to see The Chuckle Brothers at the Pier Theatre — they are one of Wilson's favourites. I've told him 'We'll see' and I think he knows by now what that means, although when I handed him another Donut he said, 'To me! From you!'

I've put my foot down about Roy "Chubby" Brown — far too rude for a young anteater's ears — but I might be persuaded about ABBA, The Show...

Great Yarmouth Pier

To get the holiday off to a good start, I thought we'd go to Great Yarmouth to visit one of its two pleasure piers. 

Between the car park and the pier, Wilson stopped to make one of his traditional holiday purchases: a new bucket and spade set. I've lost count of the number of buckets and spades W must have by now — dozens, at least — but he always has to start each new holiday with a new set.

Once this was done we headed off to the Britannia Pier. Wilson was very keen to know why Great Yarmouth was so called, wondering whether there was another, Not-so-Great Yarmouth somewhere else that perhaps had not two but only half a pier. 

'That must be a hard sell for the Tourism Department,' he mused. 'Come on holiday to Not-so-Great Yarmouth! It's not Great, but it's Okay!' He giggled to himself.

I told him that the only other Yarmouth I knew of in the UK was on the Isle of Wight, and I expected that it was just lovely there but didn't like blowing its own trumpet.

Booking in

Once we'd arrived at our hotel, Wilson went ahead to book us in while I unloaded the rest of the luggage from the car.

W signed the registration documents, then handed one of his Consulting Detective business cards to the Receptionist; she read it, then handed it back. 

At this point I staggered in with the remainder of our cases; W took our key and we went up to our room to unpack.

I thought I could feel the Receptionist's eyes following us as we climbed the stairs…