Known in recent decades by affectionate hellenicisation – “dad got laid off so we’re holidaying in Clethrepos this year” – this beach town a tad south of Grimsby was a choice venue, back in the fifties and sixties, for outings by train or more likely by chara from the working class estates of Sheffield and West Riding towns like Barnsley.
But let’s fast-forward. How was it looking on a Sunday in April, 2018? In pretty good shape, I’d say, all things considered.
All too soon, alas, it was time for one last ride on the donkey, then hop into the motor to tootle off home. Tara then.
for outings by train or more likely by chara
These chara trips were immortalised in this song:
https://youtu.be/iZtKWnRju58
Did I detect a touch of homophobia in there, Mister Chain? We never had none of that when I were a nipper tha knows.
And speaking of dubbell ontondra, why does he call himself Ivor Biggun? Anybody checked?
Enjoyed those photos Phil. I particularly liked the pavillion with fish – chips written on it.
Yeah, me’n all Mike. Would have had some, too, but the woofer wasn’t allowed.
A nice trip down memory lane Phil.
Doesn’t seem to have changed that much – donkey’s are older 😉
Jim
It’s surprising how well most of these working class venues have held up, Jim. The age of two weeks in Skeggie or Brid are gone forever but many of those within striking distance of big population centres have pulled it off as day trip destinations. In this they’ve been helped by motorways and fast dual carriageways. And much better cars. I remember it took three or four hours to get to the Yorkshire coast from Sheffield, and not a lot less to Lincolnshire. This on roads that went through every village to cause huge tailbacks (fewer cars offset by more charabancs) and motors conking out to a chorus of wailing kids – “when are we going to see the sea” – irate dads and frazzled mums trying to hold it all together; with backdrop of AA men on motorcycle’n sidecar riding up and down to fix everybody’s troubles and salute all cars sporting the black on yellow AA motif.
These days I can get from Sheffield to Hornsea or Cleethorpes in an hour, without speeding. Some seaside towns have gone under – Whitley Bay looks like downtown Detroit – but many are doing OK. Though frayed at the edges, and with a few seedy patches, Clethrepos is a case in point. Skeggie and Brid too.
We don’t change the spelling, but pronounce it : “Clay-tor-peth”
Ha ha! Isn’t that because some Spanish king back in the dim and distant had a lisp?