|The Village of Whitby|
It is a glorious spring day on the northern coast of England, and I am seated on a bench overlooking the sea, in a village called Robin Hood's Bay. It is an ancient settlement, with remains found that date back 3000 years, and first mentioned by a topographer of Henry the VIII in 1536.
Yesterday I walked to this village from Whitby, where I am staying, this weekend, on the first part of my pilgrimage to visit the places Stan and I loved. Of all of them, the village of Whitby, and this northern coast, were his favourite. He often spoke of retiring here, where he said they had 'proper winters.'
All around me families stroll along the shore, children running happily toward the waves with their plastic shovels and buckets filled with sand. Couples walk hand in hand, deep in conversation or silent in contemplation. Dogs of all sizes frolic along the water, chasing balls and rings thrown by their owners into the sea. The water must be freezing, but no one seems to mind. The English have stripped down to shorts and tank tops and let the waves curl around their bare feet. It is the first real warmth we have had all year. We have been so desperate for the sun.
|by the sea, Robin Hood's Bay|
|slippery rocks where I fell|
|Robin Hood's Bay, from the top of the hill|