My mother and brother were evacuated to Brid during the Second World War and “following the cessation of hostilities” as my pompous history master was fond of saying, the family on whom they were billeted went into the B&B business.
And so it was that I was destined to spend a summer week every year in the town until my mother decided that I was sufficiently mature to be left home alone.
I would have been about twenty-three – she was not a trusting woman.
To my surprise and great delight, little has changed and I have been enjoying many happy trips down memory lane.
Many of the small shops and cafes remain as I remembered them and the Old Town, not my favourite destination as a child, I can now appreciate and is itself obviously unchanged.
As we had no car and travelled by train from Hull, we couldn’t stray far. I was familiar with Flamborough, but only from the sea when we took trips on the Yorkshireman, and it has been a pleasure getting to know the village itself. Sewerby, where I now stay, we reached on foot or, a special treat, on what is now the Land Train.
In recollection it was then truly a train on rails, though my memory may be faulty. It is still a treat.
My mother had a fondness for Sewerby, saying approvingly that “you get a better class of people there”. I doubt if she would say that now, knowing that I spend so much time there.
Years later, when in my teens, I used to cycle with friends from Hull to various resorts – Hornsea, Withernsea, Scarborough even – but my preference was Bridlington, although I would be hard pressed now to say why.
I had gone from looking for fossils as a child to searching for girls as a youth, with a dismal want of success in both departments.
Now my quest is for haddock and chips.