Mechanical Memories Magazine

Happy Holibobs up North
By Jerry Chattenton
It's not very often that I have the opportunity to feel smug, certainly not where Mrs C.
is concerned. Since the day we were manacled together at the altar, my lovely wife has
made every effort to ensure that I know my place. In the pecking order of the
Chattenton household, I understand I come somewhere below the cat. But here I relate
a story of triumphant vindication; one of those rare occasions that I was right.
Sharron and her mum have a holiday together every year, travelling long
distances to some God-forsaken foreign destination. I don' t like flying and I don't
tolerate hot temperatures; in fact, I'm not fussed obsessed by holidays, which is why
Sharron goes with her mum. It suits me fine. However, Sharron and I always get away
together for a few days in June. It's not what many would consider a holiday, more a
short break, as we generally take Monday to Friday so that I don't miss the weekend
trade at Brighton. But it suits me fine.
Now, I know it's something of a cliche, but I've always held the belief that I shall
not live long enough to see everything that's worth seeing in this country, so why go
abroad? Sharron jets off with her mum to exotic foreign climes, but when we have our
'short break' we stay here in our Fair Isle; our green and pleasant land, and always at
the seaside. Over the years, we' ve visited much of the South coast, the Southwest, the
Southeast and East Anglia but have never really ventured 'up North '. OK, we' ve
visited Blackpool on a couple of occasions (which was probably at least one too
many), but as for the East coast, we've never ventured further than Cromer. But this
year, this sorry situation was to be rectified.
For many years now, I've been trying to persuade my lovely wife to allow us to
visit the beautiful seaside town of Scarborough, in North Yorkshire. Objections to this
idea have taken a number of courses, but generally include exclamations of "freezing
cold North Sea ..... . " However, this year Sharron relented and agreed that our holiday
destination could be Scarborough, but only if we stayed in a posh hotel. Bingo!
However, this is not where the smugness comes in, in fact, as our holiday
approached, I became very, very nervous and almost wished I'd never mentioned
Scarborough in the first place. You see, I started to consider the weather: what if it
rained all week, and worse still, what about those freezing cold north-easterly winds?
If it all went wrong, it would be my fault. .... .it always is.
So the day of our departure arrived and we set off on a leisurely six-hour drive to
North Yorkshire. We arrived at our destination, parked the car and checked into the
Royal Hotel (see, I fulfilled my side of the deal - posh hotel! Google it and check out
pictures of the entrance hall, it really is magnificent).
Page lO