From North Sea to English Channel

Hosing it down this morning. A proper English bank holiday Monday. Getting up, we all went off to do various things in town this morning, Lorraine and I drifting about, laughing at how dreary it was. But it was good to see Whitby in gritty mood. It is still a really picturesque place, and the townspeople and visitors seemed to stride around with undiminished enthusiasm. Wiry northerners in shorts and wet tops, not using their hoods in the rain.

We all met up again for a final drink together, before Lorraine, John and I walked the others off to the bus station. Betty staying with Sam for a couple of days.  Fond farewells. It had been a really fun few days.

Then Lorraine, John and I had a last inevitable plate of fish and chips in a small backstreet chippy. The fish was excellent here too. Then off to the car and Lorraine started the epic drive down to Brighton. We stopped off in the North Moors for a bit, looking down at a big hole in the ground, the Hole of Horcum, which legendarily was made by a giant called Wade picking up earth to throw at his annoying wife called Bell.

A long drive home, but we remained cheerful, listening to Classic FM's all time top thirty of classical music, then for the last hour or so listening to a Kermode and Mayo podcast. Dropped John off in Hove, and Lorraine drove us home. I'd been monitoring Lorraine carefully for the last couple of hours because she was very tired, but fortunately not sleepy. An immense drive.

Happy to be home, the place left immaculately by Matt and Reuben, and the cats in good shape.

Below whale bone arch; and the abbey in the distance; another view of Whitby; Lorraine in the rain; statue of Captain Cook; heather on the moor; views of the Hole of Horcum.


















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