Well, would you believe it—a full week has already whizzed by since we left the sunshine of Wigan behind and set off on our epic transatlantic adventure. Planes, trains, and automobiles couldn’t hold us back as we crossed the pond from the UK to Boston, and then made our sunny way down to the Gulf Coast paradise of Anna Maria Island in Florida.
Time’s a funny thing when you’re on holiday—it moves both quickly and slowly. One minute you’re figuring out how to work the coffee machine in your condo, the next you’re on your eighth day wondering if it’s acceptable to have Key Lime Pie twice in one afternoon. (Spoiler: it is.)
So, let’s talk about Day Eight—a day that involved a cheeky road trip to a place called Venice (no, not that one), some average burgers, a beach with more sand than people, and a steakhouse so good we forgot we were full. Let’s dive in.
Morning Shenanigans: Coffee, Crime Novels & Sleeping Beauty
Balcony Bliss
As has become something of a morning ritual, I found myself up at silly o’clock, perched on the balcony of our 1st floor condo, sipping coffee and nose-deep in Lee Child’s “Killing Floor”. Jack Reacher is cracking skulls while I’m cracking open another pod of coffee. It’s all very peaceful—palm trees swaying, the distant hum of golf carts trundling by, and the warm whisper of the Gulf breeze. Heaven.
Helen & Brian Hit the Shops
By 9:00 am, our friends Helen and Brian had already vanished, off to do something suspiciously productive—shopping. Or “a spot of shopping” as they so quaintly described it. Whether this involved actual useful items or just another straw hat for Brian, I may never know.
Sleeping Beauty Arises
Meanwhile, back at the condo, my wife Michele was still in dreamland. Not one to miss out on adventures, I gave her a gentle nudge at 9:15 am, and to be fair, she probably needed the extra hour. Holidays are all about recharging, after all, even if you recharge horizontally until mid-morning.
Hitting the Road: Destination Venice (Florida Style)
Not That Venice…
By 10:30 am, Michele and I set off on a mini road trip. Our destination? Venice. No, not the one with gondolas, pigeons, and overpriced gelato. This was Venice, Florida—just south of Sarasota and promising a different kind of charm (with fewer tourists and probably more golf carts).
Leaving Helen and Brian to enjoy some blessed condo peace and quiet, we hit the road for the 35-mile journey down the coast.
A 75-Minute Snail Race
Now, you’d think 35 miles would be a quick jaunt. But Florida likes to keep you on your toes. It took us 75 minutes, partly thanks to some “scenic” traffic and the fact that Floridian drivers seem to either go 10mph under the limit or are auditioning for The Fast and the Furious: Retirement Edition.
Still, the drive wasn’t without its charm. Palm trees everywhere. Blue skies. The occasional glimpse of the Gulf to remind you you’re basically in paradise.
Venice Vibes: Where the Average Age Is 85
Downtown Delights?
We eventually rolled into Centennial Park Venice, found free parking (yes, you read that right—free. UK councils, please take note), and began our stroll around the quaint downtown area.
To be blunt, downtown Venice is cute—but let’s just say it’s not exactly buzzing. Mostly clothing boutiques and coffee shops, all with customers who were definitely drawing their pensions before the Beatles were a thing. It’s the sort of place where time slows down and a cardigan is always appropriate attire, no matter the temperature.
T J Carney’s: Burger Me
By this point, we were ravenous. After a solid week in the States, we’d somehow managed to avoid burgers entirely. T J Carney’s fixed that. Their special of the day? A burger, of course.
It was… fine. Not bad, not amazing—just a solid 5.5 out of 10. The bun was a bit too soft, the patty slightly overcooked, but it did the job. We didn’t cry, but we didn’t cheer either. Still, it felt good to tick “first American burger of the trip” off the list.
Beachside Wandering: Where’s That Jetty?
Pier Pressure
After lunch, we decided to chase a bit of coastal charm and hunt down the Venice North Jetty Pier. Sadly, our route was blocked—some sort of road closure (or maybe a conspiracy to keep tourists from finding it).
We pivoted and found ourselves at Venice Beach instead. Now this, dear reader, was more like it. White sands, a vast open horizon, and barely another soul in sight. It had that windswept, slightly desolate vibe that makes you want to run dramatically into the sea yelling “I’m free!”
We didn’t do that. But we could have. And that’s what matters.
The Long Drive Back (and a Collapsed House)
Back in the car, we began our uneventful return trip to Anna Maria Island. Same 35 miles, same slightly confused sat-nav, same erratic Floridian drivers.
One unexpected sight along the way: a collapsed house, likely courtesy of a previous hurricane. A sobering reminder that while Florida often plays host to sunshine and sunsets, Mother Nature doesn’t always play nice. Quite a sight—and one that put our minor complaints about traffic into perspective.
Reunion, Happy Hour & Meaty Delights
Salt Bar Shenanigans
Once back at the condo, we reunited with Helen and Brian. They’d had a lovely, quiet day (probably folding shopping bags and drinking wine), and we all decided to celebrate our reconvening with a visit to Salt Bar and Restaurant for a bit of happy hour indulgence.
There’s something delightfully cheeky about happy hour in the US. Drinks flow, appetisers are half price, and suddenly you’re two margaritas (coke for me as I was designated driver for the night) in before anyone’s even mentioned dinner.
Longhorn Love
Dinner was at Longhorn Steakhouse in Bradenton—a firm favourite of Brian’s, and to be fair, it delivered. Excellent service, perfectly grilled steaks, and that reliable chain-restaurant charm that makes you feel like you’ve been there a dozen times (even if it’s your first visit).
Michele and I had actually dined at a Longhorn before—Tucson, Arizona, back in September 2024 with Pauline. So it was a bit of a nostalgic moment for us, in between bites of juicy sirloin and trying not to fall asleep in the loaded jacket potatoes.
Condo Time: Books, Breezes, and Bed
The evening ended as many Florida evenings do—back at the condo, full-bellied, slightly sun-kissed, and thoroughly satisfied. The balcony called once more. Michele read, I read. Jack Reacher punched someone in the face (in the book, not on the balcony). All was well in the world.
