Brokeback Whitby

As promised broadband is on and we're blogging!

Been another couple of hectic weeks. More gigs, quiz wins, aardvarks and forgetting my words but as promised here is a tale of two intrepid, middle aged chaps and a weekend in Whitby.

Expect photos.

Here's one:

On our way somewhere in the Fylingdales area bemoaning the lack of golf balls.

Before we really crack on some background info. Me and my best mate Ian last did a weekend in Whitby 11 years ago just before my Mum died. This trip was a kinda anniversary thing. Plus we both just love Whitby so why not. The majority of my friends expressed jealousy at our trip apart from mutual mate Rick Wright who's reaction was 'Why would you?' It's a line that came up every time we were particularly happy. We used it a lot.

So Friday evening we arrived at our digs

Yes the sky was that blue all weekend. We had to buy shades.

Bags dumped and off for the first pint of many. A toast was offered by Ian to my Mum which started a trend that lasted till our final drink of the weekend back in the Tut 'n' Shive, Donny on Sunday afternoon. A glass was raised with every pint we had. Sadly I cant remember them all but these are the one's that I can:

Patricia
Bill
You, my friend
You, my friend
Bruce Springsteen
The unconditional love of my Mum and Ian's Dad
Whitby
The Cleveland Way
Mickey
Danny
Rick Wright
Why would you?
Al the loon
The mighty Revolver
The landlord of The Laurel Inn, Robin Hood's Bay
Martha
The unstealable fish
Beer
Julie
Harvey's Bristol Cream
The sea
Bands that will only ever play in pubs but entertain us nevertheless
Nicking keepsakes from pubs
The Black Cats

That's in no particular order and as I said there were many more that have slipped into an alcohol infused wasteland.

So a trawl round the excellent pubs of Whitby including a visit to the Duke Of York to see my favourite fish

We both covet this fish but it ways a ton. I'm not advocating stealing but if we could have we would have! More of that later.

A stagger back through the town and into The Station Inn to find a band playing. Revolver, a two piece doing rock covers. It was a 'sod it let's just go for it' moment and we partied like we were watching The Stones. A group photo was needed of band and people old enough to know better but just don't care.

Felt a bit sorry for the band cos I think they thought we were genuine fans. 'We're in Hartlepool tomorrow. Are you coming?' 'Ah, we would do mate but we've made plans'.

Back to The Pier Inn to crash. I sat on my bed and heard a worrying creak, then as I lay down the bottom fell out of my world. Well, my bed. Had a very uncomfortable night trying to sleep on this:

Up in the morning, fixed my bed and down to breakfast for the first of two days fighting for extra toast. As Ian said, 'You don't break a bed on one slice of toast.' Hangovers and ageing limbs permitting we decided to do the 7 mile walk down the coast to Robin Hood's Bay on the Saturday. Why would you? BECAUSE WE CAN. It became a mantra.

First off we had to get me a hat. Ian was insistent the night before that I needed a hat and we needed to take a photo at the end of the pier. He had no recollection in the morning of why and we couldn't find a hat I was happy with. I already had a checked shirt on. A cowboy hat would have made it all a bit too Brokeback Whitby. Especially with kiss me quick on it. So we bought sunglasses instead and headed for the 199 steps up to the Abbey. We decided if we could do the steps then we could do the whole walk and either way it afforded some of the greatest views this country has to offer.

Steps successfully climbed the walk was on. Wandering through the graveyard we came across Dangerous Cliff the piper.

I've never been a fan of bagpipes but even his wailing and droning couldn't spoil my mood. I took the obligatory Abbey pic and was somewhat delighted at the outcome.

And then off down The Cleveland Way were we saw a tree

and a sheep

We tramped our merry way down the coast, letting the serious, non-hungover walkers yomp their way to the Bay, including the joggers (for once Rick Wright was right, 'Why would you?) while we enjoyed our leisurely stroll through God's Own County till this came into view

First port of call was The Grovesnor Hotel and a well earned one of these

and then a walk down the hill, pub by pub of course. Those of you who know the hill in Robin Hood's Bay will be impressed by this next bit. A young lad cycled past us going up the hill. We stopped and gave him a round of applause before we entered my favourite pub of the weekend, The Laurel Inn. Best pint of the weekend too. The landlord wanted to charge for our tasters as he was that confident in the beer. He was right too though thankfully didn't charge us. Further on down the hill to look at the sea now. I could just watch the sea for hours.

And then time to struggle back up the hill, calling in again at The Laurel Inn. Our request for a taster was dismissed laughingly and then I spotted the sherry. I like sherry. It was my Mum's favourite tipple. She'd often wait up for me after a night out and we'd share a glass. As she said, drunk was the only time she could get my darkest secrets out of me! With a withering look the landlord dusted off the sherry and scorned my request for a suitable glass. It was lovely though.

On to the bus back to Whitby for our final night. A discussion started on the pros and cons of taking mementos from pubs. I insisted it was theft and as an ex landlord would be horrified to find something had been nicked at the end of the night. I consulted a pub manager friend of mine who said it was fine as long as it wasn't her pub so we were then drunkenly on a shameful mission. We did find one pub that wasn't overly friendly and the beer was poor and in a fit of pique I walked out with this

I can only apologise for my pilfering ways and if the long arm of the law are reading this it's a fair cop. I should point out that everyone we spoke to that night was very encouraging regards the blatant theft. We nipped back to The Pier Inn to deposit our swag, bumped into a crowd from Donny and then headed to the Station Inn hoping for a repeat of the Revolver night. We stopped off for one at The Ship where Ian inexplicably took a shine to the barmaid and seemed genuinely surprised that the line, 'I'm 46 and you're sexy,' didn't work. Not long after that we both hit a wall and called it a night. I had a fitful night's sleep as my bed creaked and I was scared to move.

The next morning after more begging for toast we had a final walk round Whitby

and then it was time to say goodbye

I should point out that contrary to appearances neither myself or Ian are alcoholics. We just do passable impressions now and then.

And now it's another weekend. Gangsters and Molls birthday bash tonight, three gigs in one day tomorrow and back on Sine FM Sunday evening, 6pm - 8pm.

Why would you?

Life is good again.

Laters

SS