This is an infamous story the kids love to tell about Sean. This is from 2012, when Tom was 5, Millie was 4, and I was about five months pregnant with Abbie. At the time, money was extremely tight and so my mother-in-law had bought us National Trust membership and I wanted to take full advantage of it! One of the few local options was Brownsea Island, just off Poole. This was quite exciting because we had to take a little ferry to get there. We would have to pay for that, but we’d checked the prices and thought it was worth going.

We drove to the ferry port to discover there was no parking. Sean offered to drop us off and find parking, but I was hesitant because Sean’s sense of direction is a little dubious and I thought we might end up never seeing him again. So we drove around the roads in the area looking for somewhere to park. All the roads had double yellow lines! So we ended up having to park at the beach in Sandbanks, probably the most expensive parking in the area and a good fifteen minute walk from the ferry.

Once parked, Sean and I dug out all the cash we had in order to pay the extortionate parking fee and headed off to the ferry. Millie was never a great walker and so Sean carried her most of the way. We got to the ferry and saw that we were just in time as they were getting people on board to leave.

We went to the little booth to buy our tickets. Four tickets, all good. They had space, and it was free for the children. All perfect. Sean handed over his debit card to pay and the man in the booth shook his head saying, “Sorry mate, we don’t take cards.” Sean’s mouth dropped open at this! Who doesn’t take cards?! Sean asked how he would prefer to be paid and the reply came, cash or cheque! He quietly lost it at this and laughingly said, “Cheque, cheque? No one has carried a cheque book since the 80s!” The man smiled in reply and insisted that we would have to pay by cash. Shaking his head, Sean got out his wallet and rummaged for some cash, but came up short because we’d used all our cash for the car park!

Turning back to the ticket man, he asked where the nearest cash point was, assuming it must be close if this was the only way to pay. But no, the nearest cash point was back at the beach.

Sean looked down at the kids, back at the ticket man, then at me. “Do we really want to go to Brownsea Island?” The chorus was “Yes!” from the kids. Sean sighed, and we walked across the road to where there was a tourist shop that the kids could look at the junk for sale.

We had a hasty whispered conversation about what to do and agreed there was no way round it. We’d already spent a fortune on parking, we were going to Brownsea Island. Sean left me with the kids and headed back to the beach.

We waited, and we waited. I was getting nervous Sean had gotten lost and, being five months pregnant, was desperate to use the public toilets. I took the kids in and realised that we couldn’t all fit into one cubicle with my enormous belly, and I was too nervous to leave them outside on their own. It was pretty grim in there and I was probably a lot more cautious when I only had two kids! We went back outside and waited as I hopped from foot to foot. Just as I was deciding we would have to all walk back to the car to find my geographically challenged husband, Sean came into view limping and with a face like thunder.

He was shaking his head and muttering under his breath, “This better be flipping worth it!”. I smiled sweetly and asked him to stand for a minute with the kids while I dashed into the toilets. We went up and paid for the tickets with cash and waited for the next ferry to arrive.

While we were waiting, I looked down and noticed Sean’s foot was bleeding. I reached into my bag and got out the ever ready wet wipes and gave one to him. Not daring to ask what happened!

He gave a half smile and told us what happened. He’d left us and ran along the road, thinking there must be a cash point somewhere between here and the beach. But no, he got all the way back to the car and finally found a cash point, still fuming about being offered to pay by cheque. He put his card in and entered his pin. It was at this point the cash point informed him that there would be a £1.50 charge for every £10 withdrawn. As I said, money was tight, and to spend £1.50 on getting his own money out of a cash point was a no no. So he walked a bit further and found another one but this one had a 25% charge! But by this stage, he knew we were waiting. The kids wanted to go; I wanted to go, so he had to get the cash. He walked back to the first cashpoint painfully and forcefully agreed to this outrageous charge and yanked his card and the cash out of the machine.

At this point, he was absolutely livid! This trip was supposed to be fun, and he’d had to drive around to find parking, walk for miles carrying a by now fairly heavy four-year-old, only to be told he couldn’t pay for the ferry unless he had cash or a flipping cheque(!), had to walk again to get the cash and finally pay for the cash. It was the last straw. He was so frustrated he now had to walk all the way back and pretend to be happy and enjoy this stupid island! An innocent pine cone lay on the road and so Sean took aim and kicked it with all his might!

The pine cone remained in place as his foot smashed into the pavement! As we heard this, I did my best to keep a straight face as Millie asked, “Why did you do that Daddy?”

We remember little about our time on Brownsea Island, but whenever someone mentions going there, Sean frowns and says definitely not worth the effort!