Beach huts, classic cars, and fish and chips: what more could you want out of a Sunday afternoon?

Before I give you the impression that Southend-on-Sea is nothing but a live reenactment of Sybil, let me tell you about the rest of my lovely day there...

This is me pretending to drive a 1953 Austin named Archie. (Deee, please note the fabulous kickin' awesome birthday bracelets you got me! They made this car look GOOD.)

Archie had a bit of trouble getting started. First, he had to be cranked, then he needed his spark plugs lovingly caressed, then he needed his bottom wiped. He was a darling.

Please note: in England, a wrench is called a 'spanner.' And instead of referring to idiot guys as tools like we do back home, they call them spanners, as in, 'I went to this dinner party and got stuck talking to a total spanner all night.' I thought it was interesting that calling a guy something from a toolbox was universal and that the English chose to specify which tool.

Archie, beaming merrily and innocently away:

The best part of Southend-on-Sea is of course the beach huts...

Except maybe the fish and chips:

Which came wrapped like this...

And blossomed into heavenly this, by far the best fish and chips I've EVER had:

Please note the grease on the paper. That's how you KNOW it's good...

Southend-on-Sea has an identity crisis.

Southend-on-Sea's main strip is slightly confused. Town motto? 'We can do it all.'