Tuesday, November 08, 2011


Arrived yesterday in a bleak-looking Whitby on the East coast of Yorkshire, pressed low under a thick layer of white-grey cloud and buffeted by a cool wind off the North Sea. Suffering from sleep deprivation, having had only three and half hours sleep the night before and then driven for six hours to get here, leaving at 6.30 in the morning, we spent a bleary-eyed hour or so wandering around the town, getting our bearings. We were surprised, as we strolled out onto Whitby's famous piers, to be suddenly surrounded by a mob of enormous seagulls mobbing, in broad daylight, a large owl. The chase wheeled over the piers and then went upwards, up and up over the headland until it was impossible to distinguish which of the tumbling black dots in the sky was the owl and which its vicious pursuers. A strange omen perhaps for the beginning of our stay here. The town is also still full of goths from the WGW (Whitby Gothic Weekend) which was this one just passed. Presumably the reason that most of the goths left behind look fairly middle-aged is because they are the ones whose alternative lifestyle leaves them enough leisure and spare cash to stay past the end of the weekend. There are some great costumes on display!

Actually, my best friend and I are staying for this week not in Whitby, but in the nearby village of Fylingthorpe, just a short walk from Robin Hood's Bay. One of our occasional trips away together to retreat, recuperate, rest and revive...

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