You’ve probably never heard of Bridlington in England. You’re unsure how to pronounce it. And you probably think you’ll never go there. I’d never heard of it until I found myself preparing to go on holidays there for a week. It’s between Newcastle and Hull, on the east coast. Brid rhymes with Madrid. Lington takes care of itself.

Don’t think of Madrid weather, mind you. They had a good late May this year but I arrive on Sunday in early June to a stiff breeze, cloud that exudes dullness, and 14 degrees that stay until the transformation to sunshine that always arrives the day before leaving, sunshine transforming to radiance on departure day.

But beyond the uninspiring weather and the half-farce of sitting on a beach for days in attire you would only dream of wearing inside, Bridlington’s rolling beaches of thick sand and continual sound of low waves rolling in off the North Sea are good for the soul. The walk to the beach is perhaps the most invigorating aspect, the rising hum of the sea filling your ears as you approach.

As buckets and spades permeate more of my holidays it’s getting harder for me to get that holiday pint (note: not bottle or can of beer at residence) in for two compelling reasons. One is almost three, the other three months. Such is life and we wouldn’t have it other way. Yet I do love a pint on holidays, those irreverent late afternoons you can never have at home, when no duty on the other side of it seems compromised by one, or two, or…well, that would be it nowadays.

Yet the opportunity for one presents itself towards week’s end. An extended family meal at The Lobster Pot, a hotel-pub on an approach road to the town, a place so big it must cater for many on weeks when the town heaves with holiday makers occupying the many mobile homes, caravan sites and hotels.

I don’t criticise easily but the food is disappointing. The kids’ hummus starters arrive without one of its two veg. These things happen but there’s no mention of the absent cucumber by the waiter. Despite plenty of fish options on the menu, there is literally no fish available on the day though. You can smell the sea-salt in the air. My Hunter’s Chicken is tarnished by excessive BBQ sauce. For full disclosure, the others are happy with their meals and the kids’ sausages and mash is tasty.

The pint is of more concern to me than Hunter’s Chicken or indeed anyone else’s. I’m pleased to report that the choice is extensive and the quality high. I try the Wainwright Gold ale (4.1%) and approve. It’s served only a bit below room temperature, like many cask beers in Britain are. Draught beers here and there are served at a much colder temperature. The warmer temperature usually brings out the flavours. Wainwright has pedigree. I enjoy the first third of a pint of Neck Oil Session IPA (4.3%) too before crowd control of children calls time.Its spacious interiors provide open spaces and quieter corners for meals or quiet drinks. Outside there’s a little playground, an excellent idea for any venue serving meals for kids. Without it the third of Neck Oil or my pilfering of my son’s sausages and mash wouldn’t have been possible.

We dream of faraway days, maybe even in Bridlington, when one of The Lobster Pot’s outdoor wooden tables and benches might be ours and the Two Principal Reasons why a pint is hard to enjoy might occupy two of the four spaces without stabilisation or negotiation. When they might colour in objects on a drawing page, or even eat their meals, or converse with us, for the duration of one uninterrupted holiday pint. Faraway Bridlingtons are greener.