Scarborough Most Fair

Wake at seven and let Normy into the garden, it is another breathtaking dawn, the sun has not yet risen and the southern sky is pink, gold, grey and blue, the trees and stacks of hay bales emerging from the darkness. Norman watches me intently as I make breakfast and wags his tail happily when he receives his share of sausage, bacon and black pudding. After breakfast, I check comparison sites for house and contents insurance for Pip and manage to save her £200 on her annual premium. This takes more time than I had planned and by the time I have showered and dressed, it is half past nine before we leave to collect the terriers for their morning walk. So much for my early start and to compound my problems, I forget about the roadworks and spend fifteen minutes waiting to get through. It is ten past ten when we arrive down Newbald Road, park up and make our way into the woods. I have dressed in decent navy cords and a leather jacket, so I don't have to return home and change, before setting off for Scarborough, and have clean shoes in the boot of the car. The lovely dawn has given way to a dank, grey, drizzly day and a chilly wind from the Northwest. Fortunately we are sheltered in the woods, when I saw Felicity on Sunday she told me that she thought the little ash tree she planted a few years ago, might have ash die back. She calls it Ygdrasil after the Norse legends, she loves A. S. Byatt and I bought her a large print edition of "Ragnarok", for her birthday. When I check, I fear she may be right, Ygdrasil looks sick, it may be one of those saplings imported from the continent before the ban. When we leave the protection of the woods, the rain is whipped into my face by the wind, so when we reach Black Mill, we call it a day and head downhill for the car. After dropping Dolly and Teddy back in Cherry, I change out of my muddy boots and set off for Scarborough. There are several possible routes but by far the most beautiful is the one that travels over the wolds via Sledmere and Staxton Hill, although it is ten minutes longer. We arrive at my cousin's flat on North Cliff at noon, it is grey and drizzly here too, but Scarborough is beautiful in any weather. My cousin's husband, David, comes downstairs to let us in and makes tea for me and provides Norman with a drink when we arrive in their flat. They are on the third floor, with spectacular views of the castle and North Bay, fortunately they have a lift and so I don't have to carry the dog up three flights of stairs. My cousin Irene is a slim, beautiful woman, five years younger than me, but she suffers from early onset Alzheimer's disease and her short term memory is severely impaired. Fortunately she is always happy and cheerful, and David copes admirably. After chatting for a while, mainly about our children and grandchildren, we set off to take Norman for a walk. There is lovely cafe, called the glass house, opposite the miniature railway station, across the road from Peasholm Park. The drizzle continues and when we arrive at the cafe, it is closed, so we turn tail and I suggest we try the surfers cafe opposite the beach. When we arrive I am in for a pleasant surprise, it has been taken over by new owners and completely revamped. The place is busy with lunch time trade, but they still allow me to bring Normy. David orders the food, which arrives promptly, beautifully presented and cheerfully served. Irene has chile con carne, David the all day breakfast and I scampi, chips and salad. Norman is happy sat at my feet, being surreptitiously fed with occasional pieces of scampi and the odd chip. The whole of North Bay is gradually being gentrified, with development on the front and on the cliff top. After lunch we decide to visit my Aunty Dorothy, who lives in town, she is the last of my mother's generation, and was married to my mother's younger brother, Benny, who died nearly thirty years ago. The rain has started to come down more heavily, so as we have to walk past the flat, I leave Normy in my car, no point him getting soaked. On our way through town, David buys a new shirt and I spot a Norwegian winter sweater in Navy and white and add it to my winter wardrobe. We call at a cake shop and buy mince pies to take for my aunt and some fruit scones to drink with tea later. When we arrive at my Aunt's house we find my cousin Mark there, he tells us his mum has gone to Pickering with her sister, so we chat to him until he has to leave for a doctor's appointment, and leave the pies for Dorothy when she gets back. It has stopped raining when we leave and we make our way back to the flat. I have brought some dry dog food for Normy, but David digs out a slice of roast beef from the fridge and instantly becomes his best friend. David and Irene have booked to visit my cousin Michael, Irene's brother, who lives in Nuremburg, next May and invite me to go with them. They are travelling on the ferry from Hull and driving to Nuremberg to collect Michael, before heading further south to the Wolfgangsee, near Salzburg. Southern Germany and Austria in spring sounds enticing and so I accept. We leave at half past seven and drive back, whilst listening to the football on radio Humberside. Hull are 2:0 up by half time and when we arrive home I give Normy a few biscuits and eat a bowl of my pea soup, (erbsen eintopf), I am feeling Teutonic already. Hull eventually win 2:1, to bed at ten thirty.