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Still cold

An April trip to Scarborough. Time to put on the Simon and Garfunkel cover of the old English Folk Song.

Are you going to Scarborough Fair…

Well I hope they got wrapped up as it was seriously COLD, AGAIN. Beautiful but COLD.

The Scarborough song is about asking too much of others, asking impossible tasks, love fracturing. Well it would mess up if one lover was expecting a Caribbean beach holiday and they ended up on a long weekend in not so tropical Yorkshire.

We had been over here for an appointment, the last bit of formal support Hawklad gets these days. One 45 minute session every 3 weeks or so. From about the age of thirteen the support levels have shrunk rapidly. Get to 18 or 19 and they will have completely disappeared. Not because the need isn’t there, it’s likely to be there more than ever, but because nationally access to services are being restricted. Years of cut backs and efficiency restructurings have led to ‘streamlined’ services being overwhelmed with demand. So we get frustrated and angry with the lack of local support but unless mental health is given the priority it needs nationally, then it’s an IMPOSSIBLE task to support every need, it just can’t happen.

Or is it IMPOSSIBLE, at least could we do better, could we give some more support to those who need it. I guess it comes down to a couple of drivers…

– Maybe those in charge see more votes in focusing on tax cuts and immigration crackdowns,

– There are just not enough profits to be extracted by greedy hands from Mental Health Services.

The UKs so called Prime Minister will give daily speeches solely focusing on how he is being tough and proactive on trying to fly a few desperate refugees to Rwanda at a cost of £500 Million (plus…), yet he never seems to ever raise an eyebrow at the mental health crisis unfolding across the country. But what is clear.

The money is there, the money to fund services is definitely there.

This shouldn’t be impossible.

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Saltburn

Three…..

3…….

Stood on Saltburn Pier today and it was 3C. As the wind howled across the North Sea, I dread to think what the wind chill factor was. Apparently it’s still Spring here. Thermal T-shirt, thick jumper and a down jacket simply wasn’t enough. We were FROZEN. But then again as Basil Fawlty once said when told there was always someone worse off than yourself

“REALLY, I’d love to meet them as I could do with a b…..y laugh”

We weren’t those poor souls trying to SURF. We heard frequent bloody curdling screams as they entered the water and that wasn’t a monster JAWS shark causing that. I’m sure I saw an iceberg at one stage, or maybe that was a surfer who had spent more than a minute in those frigid waters. We passed one surfer sat in his car, with the heating full on, holding a steaming cup of something, who was uncontrollably shaking….

Yes good old Saltburn. An old Yorkshire coast childhood haunt of mine. Every year my so called school would do a sponsored beach walk from Redcar to Saltburn and back again. The teachers spent the child free day in the Hydro pub. Don’t tell them but quite a few of the pupils had curtailed the walk after 100 yards and were in the Dolphin Pub, a bit further down the beach. I usually made it to Saltburn as then I got to ride the little funicular up the cliff. Back then that was as near as this part of the world got to Disneyland.

Sadly last years Oscar nominated movie called Saltburn had nothing to do with this little coastal town. Shame that, it might have livened up the movie a lot. I would like to see them attempt a lot of the raunchy stuff they apparently got up to in that movie anywhere near Saltburn beach, in these temperatures. Maybe that surfer sat shaking in his car had tried to recreate some movie scenes and spectacularly failed….

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Northern lights

More storms, more rain, more wind. The Farmer’s hard stacking efforts are now completely wrecked.

A cold often, grim, winter like day.

Not much fun, a day that felt like hard work.

But you never know what is round the corner. Forced ourselves and the very reluctant mad dog out for a cold, windswept, late evening walk.

The clouds cleared just enough for a few, brief light show moments. The Northern Lights never fail to be thrilling. If only my old phone could capture the beauty just a little better.

It can be such a wonderful life.

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More coast

It’s a steep old walk out the village.. try that when it’s icy.

More tropical Yorkshire weather, more time by the coast. This time beautiful, old Robin Hood’s Bay. Welcome to the eighteenth centuries busiest Yorkshire smuggling port. Maybe the name came from this being the legendary ‘give to the poor’ hero’s seaside refuge, maybe it came from local fairy folklore. One thing is for sure, if it was Robin Hood or a Forest Elf, I hope they got wrapped up warm. It’s a place to blow away the cobwebs, it’s a place for the thickest of thick woolly jumpers.

Many many years ago, a young me came here on an outward bounds course. It’s funny how time expands and enhances the memories. I remember vividly climbing during the middle of the night, through a dark, waste deep, raging stream filled tunnel. A tunnel that went on for several deadly miles, finally after one of the greatest feats of human endurance, emerging onto the windswept beach. From this very exit…

Unfortunately it doesn’t appear to be very waste deep…. and pacing the tunnel out, it’s probably 50 yards long at most….

My whole life has been based on a lie 😂😂😂😂😂

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Seaside

Switzerland has so many wonderful adventures to offer. Such a small country offering so much.

Yet there is one thing that Yorkshire has over that LANDLOCKED Alpine Paradise.

SEASIDE

If your thing is bleak, windswept sprawling beaches and a frigid North Sea, followed by Fish, Chips and Mushy Peas, then it’s the Yorkshire Coast for you. Case in point…..

On a typically tropical Easter Day, donned in a million woolly layers, we bravely ventured to just North of Whitby. To Sandsend Beach.

Cold YES, worth visiting, MOST DEFINITELY.

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Sky drawing

Pilot having fun or maybe a pilot realising that a packed lunch was left back at The Terminal.

Lovely blue skies from a few weeks back, it’s been definitely not blue skies since then. The fields keep on getting muddier.

Perfect weather to reread Wuthering Heights, no wonder the classic grim tale was set in deepest Yorkshire.

I was chatting with a postman this morning and he talked about a man who lives near a surrounding village. At the start of January, he had moved into an old farmhouse a few miles away from the nearest housing. He told the postman that it had been weeks since he had spoken to anyone. He has no family, he didn’t know anyone in the area and was really suffering from the isolation. He had signed up to a local walking group but the walks have been cancelled due to the state of the paths. He had signed up to the local golf course, but that had been shut for weeks due to flooding. The postman was his only social contact currently. What made it so much worse was that when he went shopping to the local city supermarket, no one would ever make eye contact with him. He described it as being ‘invisible’, like he didn’t ’exist’. The supermarket only has self service checkouts so he couldn’t even chat to someone scanning his shopping.

That got me thinking. How often do I go shopping with my head down, with my walls up.

I strongly suspect that’s happening way more these days, a pandemic certainly hasn’t helped. What is clear, more people are feeling isolated and cut off. More and more people are struggling, feeling unseen.

Tomorrow I’m going to make an effort to keep my head up when I go shopping.

Eye contact, maybe a smile, maybe even saying HI.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 44 Comments

Groundhog

It’s still WINTER, no sign of SPRING…. YET.

Thanks to Bill Murray, we know it’s Groundhog Day today. Various Groundhogs seeing or not seeing SHADOWS, Six or NOT Six more weeks of winter. Looking at the various Groundhog Facebook videos emanating from across the States, there isn’t just one Master Hog these days. It’s like Boxing with its multiple champions across multiple sanctioning bodies. So might as well add another weather predicting body.

Unfortunately groundhogs are a bit scarce on the ground in Yorkshire.

So it’s HoundDog Day in Yorkshire.

Ok he isn’t a pure Hound Dog, more an accident between a randy Cocker Spaniel and an unsuspecting fluffy German Spitz. But needs most. Another problem, unlike Batman, this hero hasn’t sussed out the concept of shadows yet. Actually he hasn’t sussed out many concepts. Thankfully he has found the delights of SOCKS. So the 2024 winter forecast is based on will the nutter grab the long or shorter sock. Long winter or shorter winter.

And the results….

It’s a LONGER WINTER forecast.

Actually he then picked up the short sock. So what does a Long and Short sock mean. Where is Bill Murray when you need him.

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Stormy Weather

Two storms with names this week, that’s 10 named storms this season so far. It is definitely a bit bracing perched on top of a little Northern Hill. I would tell you the average wind speed in our garden but the recently purchased weather station was obliterated during the last storm.

Let’s just say it’s BREEZY and a tad DAMP.

The perfect time to put the recycling out for collection. I dread to think which country our cardboard is currently flying across.

It’s odd that you can live in a little bungalow for over 20 years and still feel completely lost when the lights cut out. The perfect time to test the various torches and battery lamps, because this newfangled piped electricity has proved a bit part time over the last few months. The other odd thing is the different perspective torch light gives on familiarity. Sat by myself in a king sized bed, in a room clearly made for two with half empty wardrobes, all illuminated by a cheap torch….

It shines a flickering, underpowered light on life and loss.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 47 Comments

Cold Sea

A Yorkshire Seaside Holiday Resort in WINTER. During the Summer Bridlington would be mobbed but this cold, windy day, it was almost completely deserted. Most places boarded up for the off season and definitely NO pirate ship rides.

Apparently the bronze statue is of a young girl knitting a special jumper called a Gansey for a local fisherman.

Many many many years ago, as a child I would come here once a year. It was one of the very few big family day trips. Sixty miles from home. That was as far as we ventured most years, so it seemed like it was on the other side of the world. Now walking along the seafront and it looked almost unchanged from those childhood adventures. Half expected to see my parents coming to meet us laden with newspaper wrapped fish, chips and mushy peas.

Memories AGAIN.