We stayed the night in Withernsea. Again, I'm afraid to say not much to please or amuse but a good meal at the pub.
The next day we drove on through villages and lovely countryside. The villages of SKEFFLING and FITLING did amuse. I saw the names as verbs and we passed the time wondering what sort of practices skeffling and fitling involved. Much innuendo and undeserved insults were suggested about the fine people of these villages.
Eventually we came to Flamborough Head. Probably in all the same aforementioned geography books. A great cliffscape of chalk. It was a lovely day and the sea was truly this colour. DJ sat and sunned himself.
He had been scaring me by walking right up to the edge of the cliffs. I could only get this close by hanging on to a fence and putting one foot out.
We were looking forward to climbing the lighthouse but sadly it was closed on Fridays. Obviously washday.
After an overnight stay in Sewerby, north of Bridlington we drove to Scarborough to buy lots of fish and then came home over the top. The moors are ablaze with the bright purple of the heather and were wonderful in the sunshine.
Today we are cleaning up and re-sorting the provisions, washing clothes and ironing ready for the next foray which will be a couple of weeks in France.
As I write this I'm also keeping an eye on the WMC up the road where the gypsies are gathered with horses and wagons and girls wearing as little as possible and boys walking around shirtless & with a swagger. Another series of "My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding" in the making maybe.
Cheers for now Gillian
1 comment:
Heights give me the heebies! Brave of you to get that far on a crumbly cliffside.
Travellers ( as we call them up here) tend to wear 3 piece suits to my intense disappointment. A bare-chested gypsy is the stuff of myth and song.
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