Stepping in the blustery wind as I disembarked from the platform of the East Yorkshire Bus, a seagull squawked at me from the bus stop sign. A smack of sea salt in the air rubbed my cheeks while I took in my first deep breath of the faint fish smell that lingered in this shellfish based minor fishing port on the East Yorkshire Coastline. I have arrived in Bridlington.
A small seaside resort sheltered by Flamborough Head in the north, this is where the quintessential British seaside holiday took place for many residents across the big county of Yorkshire in England in the past and since continuing to this day during the tourist season as weather allowed it to be. So far, it looked like I still haven’t arrived at the start of the tourist period. Galing winds, darkening skies battling with the sun and a decidedly chill in the air meant this was the case. Wrapping my coat around me, I trudged to the sea front with Memories of my childhood holidays with family and my school flooding me, offset by familiar landmarks and corners of this quirky town.
Armed with a bucket and spade, I would totter, giddy, to the sand in my too small swimming trunks ready to start building the best sand castle, I would be utterly determined. Then I would follow-up with a screaming splash in the cold sea while I played with my friends to see who would push each other over on each of our shoulders. Called back by shouting parents, they would lather suncream on our pinkening bodies before rolling around in the sand, sticking the coarse sand onto us much to the eye rolling of our elders. Ice cream would heavily feature in our daily diet to see if we could get that fabled flake or better yet, the sprinkles. Smeared across our faces, we would peek over the amusements arcade games and carefully slot our treasure horde of 2ps to see if we can double our winnings. Perhaps, the tokens would be our forte to try to get as many as we could to win a prize. In the evening, we would attend an over the top show at the Bridlington Spa to get our boogie on the dance floor. Those were the days, I remembered as I leant over the seawall to watch construction work putting in a ramp to the beach.
Suddenly, the wind dropped, threatening clouds dispersed and the warm sunlight blazed across the harbour. Lifting my head, I basked in the Vitamin D source and opened my eyes to be taken back to my memories as I looked across the beach.
Smiling, with money on my mind, I didn’t have far to go to try the infamous amusements again.
Famished and seeking warmth, I called in one of the great cafe establishments that’s dotted all over the seafront. You’re truly spoilt for choice. I decided upon The Rowan Tree. It’s warming atmosphere coupled with a very cheery Yorkshire lass for the waitress beckoned me inside and I was amidst the glow of Bridlington Food. Sampling their Poached Eggs on toast on a bed of very good quality ham, I soon left, regretfully, into the biting cold and took a wander along the Harbour to the end of the bridgehead. Whipped around, I realised that it wasn’t the most sensible thing to do and further compounded when a seagull riding on the crest of the wind decided to go for my iPhone when I was recording a VLOG. Upon reaching the safe shoreline I was greatly amused to discover this sign.
Doing a last lap of the seafront, aware my bus would be fast approaching soon, it was time to partake in a delightful custom when you find yourself sand-whipped on a beach. An Ice-cream. Mooting for the Raspberry Ripple, I was soon transported yet again to my memories. Sitting content after a long day on the beach, I would gaze over my flake to my school pals who would be happily lick their melting cones and think, what would the future hold for me?
Now, back to the present, I took a lick and thought the same question…