Yesterday I went with Tracey to Darlington, to help move her son Ross into his new house. I took buses from there to Middlesbrough, then Easington, and walked on a fine evening down the coast toward Whitby.
Seen by the roadside at Easington.
Rain required …
… but not just yet.
A severe case of coastal erosion as I approach Staithes from the north.
Cat at Staithes.
Pub at Staithes, where me and my shadow are about to enjoy scampi and chips washed down with a pint of Theakston’s Pale …
… before emerging, around eight-thirty, into what photographers call the golden hour.
It’s ten-thirty before I stop walking. With no shortage of suitable pitches, I choose a spot set back from the cliff top.
I wake to the first grey sky in a month. Rain looks a distinct possibility but, in my infinite wisdom, I packed neither cagoule nor warm layer. In shorts and t-shirt I walk into Whitby via Runswick Bay.
Where I catch a super deluxe double decker to Leeds …
… whose phone charging facilities allow me to top up the juice levels, and whose wifi lets me upload all of this without further inroads into my 3Gb a month Virgin deal. Ta for viewing.