The Pebble Beach at Clevedon
As you can see, the tide was out. The beach was pretty deserted, but we did see one sixtyish man lying in a rocky suntrap with his shirt off, guarded by a black dog.
We paid the money and entered the Pier
I was initially reluctant to pay what was actually quite a modest fee, but Clare shamed me into parting with some change.
Clevedon seafront from the end of the Pier
Our view of Clevedon was generally positive. We're more than used to the typical English seaside town: full of litter, tacky shops and vaguely menacing youths with way too many piercings and unnaturally-sculptured hair. None of that here - the general ambience was quite genteel and we had lunch in a very pleasant up-market restaurant, Murrays of Clevedon.
The end of the Pier
As we left, a bunch of fishermen arrived with their gear. My mother reminded me that an interesting feature of the pier is that each of the planks on the walkway has a small brass plate with the name of a sponsor. There are also brass plates on the sides of the pier, above the benches. They're a little too small to be seen on the picture above.
The author and his mother
Afterwards we drove on to Portishead. Again, we were impressed with the prettiness and up-market character of the place. The roads were jammed however, and the signage poor. First time round we completely failed to find the beach and almost arrived back in Clevedon. We eventually found it, but it wasn't worth the effort. No sand and danger signs everywhere.