I Must Return To Brid Again

This is unmistakably Bridlington: that harbour wall and those muddy moorings are seared into my DNA like deep fried haddock and chips. And, just as unmistakably, that is my mother and that is me, so the date must have been around 1950. As with so many old family seaside snaps, it is memory-rich. If spring ever comes again, I must return to Brid.

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