Deckchairs

These are the stuff of British comedy films, endlessly involved in third-rate comic sequences. Inept, weedy men in string vests try desperately to erect one without crushing any of the slightly more useful parts of the human anatomy. Looking on will be a deeply unimpressed, buxom woman in a grey plastic mac.

Now do I want to spend any time waffling on about these stripy digital entrapments? Not really but I can't think of anything else to do. They photograph well and usually come in interesting if basic colours; these were red and blue but I've wilfully removed that exciting visual stimulus. Please use your imagination.

They also blow about in an interesting fashion in much over a light breeze. They're made of good, honest basic materials - wood and canvas. As corporal support systems, they have stood the test of time. Any seafront worthy of the name in Britain will have them.

And that surprises me. Given the relentless onward march of the Health & Safety Executive, the standard bearers of the cotton wool society, how come we are still allowed to use them? When they fight back, they hurt. It can only be a matter of time before they are replaced with something rigid, bolted down, in white plastic and with really smooth edges. And I mean really smooth; something with the texture of crème fraiche or a really ripe cow pat.

Such will be progress.