Who doesn’t love a model village? Perfect miniature towns with no sink estate, no inconsiderate parking, a high street full of butchers, bakers and very probably candlestick makers. The Post Office hasn’t been closed to improve efficiency. The pub doesn’t do karaoke or Bacardi Breezers. It’s the place where we all want to live, except that the full size versions– the Ludlows and the Leyburns – are too expensive and choked with BMW X5s, loud men in red trousers and their alice banded wives.
This one is Bondville in Bridlington, a happy acre of billard-table lawns, bull-chased campers, slumbering cottages, bustling quaysides and parping brass bands. It’s just a couple of quid get in. You can wander around for an hour pointing and chuckling. And pretending to be a giant – or is that just me?