Wax Museum

Making our way back to the car, Wilson was disappointed to see that the House Of Wax in 'Tat Street' had closed down — indeed there appeared to be workmen inside stripping it out. 

I have to say I'm not much surprised. Great Yarmouth used to boast two Wax Museums, but now they're both gone. I'd visited each of them, and neither was up to much. They looked more like motley collections of badly-stored 1950s shop window mannequins in unlikely outfits, and the only way of telling who the waxworks were supposed to be was by reading their labels. The answer was often a huge surprise!

He soon cheered up when I told him we'd be going to another museum the following day, which I thought he'd like as much as the Transport Museum, and we drove back to the hotel for dinner.

Portrait Photography

After what Wilson thought was hours (but was in fact no more than a couple of minutes) his portrait popped out of the Photo-Me machine delivery chute. 

He snatched it up and regarded it critically for a moment, before announcing that it was the best photo ever taken of him, and asked me why I couldn't take lovely pictures like that?

'If you ask me, New Dad,' he said, 'people like Annie Liebovitz, Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, even Norman Parkinson and Cecil Beaton — they could all learn something from this machine!'

I hope he doesn't write to the British Journal of Photography…

Photo-Me

My photograph of Wilson actually riding on his donkey will apparently not suffice as a souvenir and he wants another picture to commemorate this remarkable day. 

Soon he spotted a Photo-Me booth, dashed inside and drew the curtain while he practiced his smile, smoothed down his fur and so on. Then his paw emerged and he asked for £5 to operate the machine.

Moments later we waited excitedly outside the booth for Wilson's Souvenir Portrait to emerge…

How to Ride a Donkey

Once Wilson's donkey ride was over we retired to a sea-front café where, over an ice-cream sundae, he told me all about his ride and explained in some detail the finer points of donkey riding.

To cut a long story short, this seems to boil down pretty much to holding on very tight and not falling off, but far be it from me to belittle his experience — he's still really pumped from his adventure. 

After he'd finished his elucidation (and his sundae) we set off for a stroll along the prom in search of further thrills. 

Wilson frowned for a moment then asked me why they're called 'sundaes' — I had to confess that I had not the faintest idea…

Donkey Ride!

I am very proud of the way Wilson waited for his donkey ride, but now the big moment has finally arrived!

He spoke quietly to all the donkeys before deciding on one called Micky. The donkey-ride lady helped him into the saddle and he set off in a little group with other children.

When he returned he was helped down and thanked Micky before running back to tell me all about his adventure. It appears that donkey riding is much more difficult than it looks because the donkeys sway about a lot, but the little girl on the next donkey advised W to hold on to the handle on the front of the saddle, and not falling off was a bit easier then.

He also said he was pretty sure the girl on the next donkey fancied him, and I have to admit that in the photo she is giving him quite an admiring look.

Who knows -- perhaps a Holiday Romance is in the offing… although W's Fortune Teller didn't mention anything of the sort.

To the beach!

Wilson had me up early this morning, full of excitement about his upcoming Donkey Ride on the beach.

When I say 'early' I mean that we had to wait for the the hotel kitchens to open before we could even have breakfast!

Once we had arrived in Great Yarmouth and parked the car we took what has become known between us as 'Tat Street'* almost at a run until we reached the Promenade… when we hit a bit of a problem.

Clearly painted on the pavement were the words 'NO DOGS ON BEACH'. Although Wilson is unquestionably not even remotely related to Canis lupus familiaris, witless jobsworths have occasionally sought to eject him from premises where he is fully entitled to be. For this reason I have Registered W as an official Companion Animal. 

I confirmed to him that I had the certificate with me, and thus reassured we made our way down to the sand for his donkey ride…

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* "Tat Street" because all the shops in the street sell cheap 'Tat' or tawdry souvenirs. Which is not to say that Wilson doesn't enjoy a tawdry souvenir — he spends hours trawling through that stuff!