Earlier this month, we spend six nights in Willerby, an East Riding village. Travelling by bus and train, an experience in itself, we visited two seaside resorts, Brid(lington) and Filey. There, and in Hull bus and rail hub, we came across stories of the past told in delightful ways.

Bridlington’s Barrow Boy

At Brid, the station is decorated with hanging baskets and pots flowers, all donated and maintained by volunteers. This year there was a sculpture. A sculpture of a Barrow boy cast in bronze by Stephen Carvill. Between 1930s and early 1980s, children carried luggage from the station to hotels or guest houses for holiday makers who arrived by train. 

Filey’s Fisherman

A sculpture by Ray Lonsdale represents the scale of the former fishing industry in Filey. It’s estimated that there are now 5 fishing boats. Lobster is fished during the summer. Cod, sea trout, sole between autumn and spring. Brexit resulted in losses of boats and business. I think this is typical of the reduction in Yorkshire fishing and a shift to greater dependence on tourism. It’s over sixty years since I’ve visited. It’s more elegant than I remember though I was probably more interested in picking shells from the beach and eating candy floss. 

The black marks in the sand are probably ragworms

Ragworms poke up like sticks out of the sand. One man was collecting them probably to use as bait with rod and line.Memorial to the dead of WW1 in Margaret Moxon Way entrance hall, Paragon station, Hull

By chance I came across my Great Uncle’s name on the Memorial to those who died in France during WW1. All set off from the station, and never returned. There are over 2,000 listed names, more being added.  The boards were designed and created by inmates of Hull Prison. Some 21 plaques in all. McAllister, Rifleman John Francis, son of John and Sarah McAllister, 102 Mark Street. He died aged 21 in September 1916 in the battle of the Somme. He was buried, or remembered, at Thistle Dump Cemetery, High Wood, Longueval, Somme, France. Railways often name their own dead, but I’ve not yet heard of a memorial to men who departed from that station, never to return. 

Reading:

The Ghost Lake – Wendy Pratt This was a wise book to choose while we were on holiday in the East Riding. The lake refers to an extinct glacial lake where Mesolithic peoples returned to settle year after year. It lies west of Filey and is also the area in which the author lives. She describes in moving terms her personal grief and her connexion with the landscape – past and present. What I particularly like is the way in which it encourages me to think about the place in which I live and my connexion to it.

The Man Alone: new and selected poems – Michael Laskey. I won this in one of Jonathan Davidson’s poetry raffles. I hadn’t heard of Laskey, but am glad I’m reading his poems. They describe the ordinary – say ironing – in a specific way. As above linked to stories and memories that are both personal and universal.

The Radleys – Matt Haig. I’ve read The Comfort Book by Matt Haig and found it wise and helpful. This is a novel. It’s beautifully written but the topic isn’t my cup of tea.