Evidence that not everyone thinks of holiday souvenirs in the same way
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG_wXoUwqFtbnY86BcmSdguTo5_RDDR3QYqIhwdpjpxldN2nQNDc0wNW-gdwwGBV5b869Br1obM1PF29_v7r9xD4LX3VLQZG-ccne7I9ELEHmrvgw2kdYy3uwUrCi_M2rgq1YEn1OzBmQW/s320/clouds.jpg)
The main legacy from our two summer weeks in Whitby, Yorkshire, appears to be that we have swapped to a different make of toilet roll. It doesn't have the romanticism of the usual souvenir, I know: the photos of surfers, the sand sculpture, or the arrangement of shells in a picture frame, or a fisherman ornament. We've been faithful to Andrex toilet rolls ever since we married. In fact, 37 years on, I think Andrex should have sent us a thank you letter or at least a card. Alas, we have received nothing, not even a free two-pack. This is despite the fact that, having brought up a family of three, we've provided employment for at least a hundred puppies. We've stuck with Andrex through 2 ply and 3 ply, literally through thin and thick, and through different patterns and perforations over the years. You'd think it would count for something, like war service, or a lifetime career in the NHS. But, no. Then, in August, in the bathroom of our holiday apartment in W