The next day at Scarborough

Waking up on the South Esplanade. The weather doesn't look too promising. I was hoping for a beautiful sunrise appearing over the sea. Not to be. Look at the mist over yonder. After coffee I set off for another walk, to see the bits I missed the day before. 

The dog walkers were out, and I noticed a man following me carrying big bulky bags. In need of a bit of conversation I stopped to let him catch me up. My opening line was, 'there are a lot of benches in Scarborough, but not enough people to sit on them'. He immediately responded with, 'it's very quiet, no one wants to come here'. Interesting I thought, I wonder why. He went on to tell me he has a shop in town and he is barely making enough money to cover his expenses. 

I walked a bit faster as I could sense he was in a hurry to get there. He said he is giving up his shop at the end of the season and leaving the UK to go and live abroad. He has his eye on the Philippines. 

I asked him why Scarborough is so quiet at this time of the year. Apart from the weather putting people off coming, what else is wrong with it. 

And so he told me. It is being flooded by unemployed people who are on benefits. They are being moved into the area from mostly towns and cities across the north, where there is nowhere to live. They, the authorities, send them here because there are no jobs, and they will be happy to live at the seaside and not have to work. These people then tell their mates to come to Scarborough because it's easy to live on the benefits, and they won't get hassled to look for work. 

He, the man I spoke to, said he sees drunks drinking from a can of beer, and drug addicts sitting around in shop doorways, every morning. I was quite saddened by this news of decline, but not surprised. We arrived at his shop and I thanked him for his enlightened conversation. He understands exactly what the wider problem is. It was a joy to meet someone very wide awake. 

The tramway has opened up again. I decided to walk up the steps beside it. Huffing and puffing when I got to the top. 

Another view from the top, the mist still not cleared yet. 

The station at the top. 

The Grand Hotel next to the tram track is beautiful. 

As well as human guests it is home to hundreds of pigeons. How they build their nests on the window ledges and read their young I'll never know. The steps below are covered in shit and need to be steam cleaned. They look a right mess. 

There are hundreds of benches, everywhere.  Seems strange to put them in rows like this where there is nothing to look at. 

I continued my walkabout looking for interesting photo's. 

Aha, a church with an open door. I had a look inside. Beautiful. 

Worthy of a video I thought. 

The sea is looking mighty rough down there. 

I suppose I ought to look at the Castle while I am here. I was wandering around deciding whether to go in. It's an English Heritage site so there is a charge. I decided that I was not bothered, plenty more places to visit on this trip. 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a figure appeared and a voice called my name. I don't believe it. One of my blog followers who I have met before. What are the chances of that. We both enjoy chatting, and after a few minutes she asked if I had time for a coffee. Well thank you for the invite, Linda. It was lovely to sit in the warmth of your front room and put the world to rights. 

I will break this post here. There is still more to come, but I need to eat, and go and check on my friends cats. They are on holiday. 

Thanks for popping in. Enjoy your Sunday. Toodle pip.   ilona