These days on the cruise ships, passengers assemble outside the restaurant doors like expectant gulls following a herring boat, waiting for the doors to be opened. Back in 1925 on our tour of the Northern capitals, things were much more stately: a smiling restaurant steward would bang a gong to summon the guests into the Veranda Cafe.
We’ve been taking Lucy up to Stainland Recreation Ground for her walks these last few weeks. It makes a change from the usual circuit of the Crematorium (“the circle of gloom”, as Lucy likes to call it). You can look down on a green world from up there. It is Yorkshire at its best: a hint of wildness, more than a dash of raw beauty, and the mills, towers and houses only a long-distance lens away.
Donkeys On The Sands, Skegness, c.1982 : It’s as British as marmalade on toast and malt vinegar on chips: donkeys on the sands. How many times have foreign invaders been driven back from the coast by a cornet-carrying child mounted on a dapple donkey?