Last week Joni and I popped to Bridlington on the train to see my niece who was visiting from London.

I only took one child as toddlers and trains are not a good combination and I’m scared of my own children. Evan has proven to be far more volatile than Joni on public transport,  goso het a weekend at home with Andrew.

Joni loves the beach, so even though we were only in Bridlington for about 24 hours, we spent a good portion of the time on the sands.

When I was little I never noticed any rubbish on the beach. It could be that there was none, but this was the ’80s and the birth of consumerism so I’m guessing the excess buying probably led to excess throwing away. Some of which must have ended up on the beach.

Now, even though Bridlington’s beaches look pretty clean, on closer inspection, they’re riddled with rubbish.

Most of the rubbish is on the tide line at the top of the beach where the sea has spat it out as far away as it can. Armed with a pink bucket and my bare hands, I embarked on an impromptu litter pick.

Within my minutes my bucket was full and I carried as much extra as I could to the bin. My mum and Joni joined in and we probably had around a carried bag worth of rubbish from about a 5 metre stretch of beach.

The most prolific waste was sweet wrappers and drinks cans. But there was also worn-down strips of tyres and lots and lots of fishing net rope.

Some of the rubbish will have blown from the land but some will have been left there on purpose. I can’t understand how someone can finish a drink and just throw the can onto the floor. Especially when they’re on the beach and especially after rubbish in the sea is now getting so much coverage in the media.

I just doesn’t make sense to me. But then neither does going to the effort of picking up dog poo, putting it in a bag and then leaving it on the beach – I left this find where it was.

Next time I’m going to bring a litter picker and spend more time removing other people’s rubbish off what I still like to think of as my beach.