Why a British seaside picnic needs its own kit list

A picnic on a Mediterranean terrace and a picnic on a blustery British beach are two entirely different sports. Here, the wind arrives from the side, the sand gets into everything within ninety seconds, and the weather can turn from warm sunshine to cold sea fret while you are still buttering a scone. None of that should put you off — some of the best afternoons of the year happen on a windy beach with a flask in one hand and a pasty in the other. It simply means packing with a little more thought. The essentials are not glamorous: weighted napkins, a generous thermos, genuinely windproof layers, and a plan for the gulls. Get those right and everything else takes care of itself.

Layer up as though the sea breeze is personal

Coastal air is roughly a season colder than the car park you left behind, and the wind chill on an exposed shingle beach will surprise you even in July. Pack for three states: sun, wind, and the damp grey that rolls in off the water without warning.

• A proper windproof outer layer — not a showerproof jacket that flaps uselessly, but something with a hood you can cinch down. Leave it on the sand while you eat; you will want it the moment you stop moving.
• A mid-layer fleece or wool jumper for everybody, including the teenager who insists they will not need it.
• A hat with a chin strap or a deep beanie, plus a spare cap, because one will go into the sea.
• Footwear with grip for wet rocks, seaweed and loose shingle, and a dry pair of socks in the car.
• Sun cream and sunglasses regardless of the forecast — sea glare burns through cloud.

Food and drink that survives the journey and the gusts

Wind is the enemy of the open sandwich. Anything light, dry and loose — crisps, lettuce, icing sugar — will be halfway to France before you sit down. Choose dense, generous food that improves with being squashed: pork pie, sausage rolls, scotch eggs, a good hard cheese, oatcakes, fruit cake, flapjack and brownies. Decant anything crumbly or bagged into lidded tubs with a weight on top, and keep salads dressed at the last moment in a screw-top jar.

The thermos is the quiet hero of the whole outing. Fill a large one with hot water and pack teabags in a tin, a small bottle of milk, and a few mugs that stack; or take soup, which tastes extraordinary on a cold beach and doubles as hand-warming. A second smaller flask of hot chocolate buys goodwill from cold children. Chill anything that needs it in a cool bag with ice packs, keep it in the shade of the windbreak rather than in direct sun, and remember that food sitting out in warm weather should be eaten within a couple of hours.

Weigh everything down: the practical art of the anchored picnic

On a breezy beach, gravity is a tool. Use it.

• Weighted napkins. Choose heavy cotton rather than paper, and set a pebble, a mug or a small plate on each one. Cloth that stays put is cloth that does not end up wrapped around a windbreak.
• Peg or clip your rug. A handful of spring clips or bamboo pegs will hold a blanket to itself or to a windbreak and stop it snapping in the gusts.
• Stake your windbreak properly. Push poles in at an angle towards the wind and heap sand or pebbles around the base. A windbreak that goes over is worse than none at all.
• Anchor plates and cups with a little sand in the bottom of a bowl, or serve food straight from tubs sitting in a shallow tray.
• A lidded basket or box for the food, closed between helpings, so nothing blows away and nothing is visible from above.

Bring a small hand brush or a spare towel for sandy feet, and a separate bag for wet swimming things so the car does not smell of the sea for a fortnight.

Choose your spot: sheltered dunes and sensible tide reading

Position matters more than any piece of kit. Walk past the first inviting patch of open sand and look for a natural hollow at the back of the beach, in the lee of a dune or a sea wall, where the wind curls overhead rather than straight through you. Sit just in front of the dune edge, not on top of it — marram grass holds the whole beach together, and trampled dunes erode fast. Avoid the strip directly beneath crumbling cliffs, and never settle below a rising tide line.

Check the tide times before you go, either from a harbour notice board or the local tourist information point, and note whether the beach is one of those coves that becomes an island at high water. Set up with a clear landward route, and treat a falling tide as your friend and a rising one as a deadline.

Gulls, scraps and leaving the beach better than you found it

Herring gulls are intelligent, bold and entirely undeterred by your objections. Do not hand-feed them, do not leave food uncovered on the rug, and do not leave bags open while you swim. Once a gull associates your group with chips, it will hover at head height and it will win.

Take a rubbish bag, tie it firmly, and carry it home if the bins are full or absent — off-season beaches often have no collection at all. Wrap food scraps rather than burying or scattering them, which attracts rats and gulls and does real harm to wildlife. Leave only footprints, take only photographs, and next spring the same stretch of sand will still be worth the drive.