A trip to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, a country estate with a large range of art scattered around the countryside. Some small pieces, some giants. Some by leading artists including the controversial Damien Hirst. Hawklad wouldn’t even let me take a photo of one particular statue ….
A sometimes mystifying but frequently stunning few hours. Unbelievably it was almost warm as well….
Definitely worth a visit.
Apparently there is a mysterious monolith that keeps appearing in various parts of the world. Strange Things.
https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/monolith-mystery-las-vegas-desert-b2564821.html
Looks impressive, well today I think we found the Yorkshire Mysterious Monolith which has randomly appeared in a similarly remote, exotic location… A Cow Field.
Same shape just a bit crap…. That kinda sums up Yorkshire sometimes 😂😂😂
Nearly the longest day and it still doesn’t feel like it’s nearly summer. A walk along the bitingly cold Yorkshire Coast.
These are really unstable cliffs. After high tides and especially after storms, you will see intrepid fossil hunters scouring the base of the rocks for fragments of a past world. Locally it’s known as the Jurassic Coast.
No T-Rex hunting for us this day, way too cold. Hands much better employed stuck in the pockets avoiding frost bite. Is it really the longest day in a few hours…. As we eventually headed back to the warmth of the car we passed a bare chested Surfer marching briskly towards his inevitable frozen doom in the North Sea.
“You might need a few more layers on….”
“Probably. The secret is to not scream too loudly and look like you enjoying it.”
“I thought the secret was to surf somewhere way warmer”
“It is but then you don’t get to surf round Icebergs. Plus if it was warmer my wife would have me cutting the grass….”
For years I’ve tried to learn a second language. At school, French was the weapon of torture preferred by the teachers. They tried, I was very trying….. After about 15 years of more self imposed French torture, after so many different language learning systems, I realised that there we’re still rabbits and chickens who could ask for a sandwich in Paris better than I could.
Experiment abandoned…..
I switched to German. Since then I’ve tried, I’ve really tried. Slowly the second language developed past rabbit linguistic levels. Increasingly on the Swiss trips, I tried out my German, usually spectacularly badly. But then in 2015, on one particular train heading towards Bern, with one particular German speaking Train Guard, a Guard asking to see our tickets and asking where we were going, I nailed it. The perfect response in perfect German. I actually spoke German for maybe 20 seconds…..
I looked over at my partner and whispered ‘that was unusually competent German for me…’
Well I thought I nailed it.
The Guard looked coolly at me over his glasses and said in perfect English…
“you used all the right words but pronounced them in the wrong way and you got the word order completely wrong”…
He then proceeded to give me an impromptu lesson on how verbs are parachuted to the end of sentences when certain words like THEN or BECAUSE are used. But then there are other words for BECAUSE that don’t send the verb flying all over the place….. what on earth is that all about.
So fast forward to 2024 and I’m still trying. I think I’ve just about sussed out the verb going to the end thing. Sadly my pronunciation is still very Yorkshire mixed with Geordie, think Monty Python. What chance have I got with actual German speakers when my very own car satellite navigation can’t even understand my accent. That’s when I’m speaking English…… But one day, hopefully really soon I will get the chance to try German again in Amazing Switzerland.
Ich kann es kaum erwarten, es wieder zu besuchen, weil es sehr schon ist.
A particularly muddy walk through the local wood, but in the end worth it. Bluebells are always wonderful to see. Perfect timing for Hawklad, we had the wood to ourselves. And unbelievably, it wasn’t raining.
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.
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….
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.
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 😂😂😂😂😂
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.
A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. 