Scarborough is perfect for a bracing break, taking in bucolic countryside and beautiful beaches
WORDS: Helen Werin PHOTOGRAPHY: Robin Weaver
Get away for...
Bridlington’s bracing seafront is very busy with fairground rides, fish and chip shops, ice cream and waffle kiosks doing a roaring trade. Yet the characterful narrow streets of the Old Town are eerily quiet in contrast.
Whilst the promenade crowds appear to have come for the haddock and chips, a spin on the dodgems or to brave the wind whipping off the North Sea on one or other of the two vast sandy beaches, I’ve come to sample the history tucked away in the quaint backstreets, a half-hour walk inland. As a fan of Dad’s Army I knew that Bridlington became Walmington-on-Sea for the 2016 movie.
Admittedly, that was what had initially made me park opposite the Pack Horse in Market Place, expectant of being able to instantly recognise Jones’ butcher shop or Hodges’ greengrocers in the Walmington scenes. Um, no, I don’t actually (I should have downloaded the Dad’s Army Film Trail to help me find filming locations in Bridlington and surrounding areas; see panel).
What I do find as I wander down the picturesque High Street towards St Mary’s Priory Church is a fascinating other side to seaside Bridlington. There are buildings from the Middle Ages, early eighteenth century pubs (including the Pack Horse) – every one of them Grade II listed – and an impressive gatehouse (Grade I listed), which served the priory ( founded in 1113) beyond. Thousands of pilgrims would have passed under this gatehouse arch on their way to the shrine of St John of Bridlington. It now houses the Bayle Museum of local artefacts.
We’ve been exploring Bridlington en route to Scarborough. Our journey has taken us across the Yorkshire Wolds, through villages of pretty cottages with appealing names like Fridaythorpe and Wetwang, passing the dry, grassy valleys with footpaths through them that characterise the wolds.
Nearing Scarborough, I’m transported to my teenage years, passing the sites of holiday parks we’d stayed in, my parents finally having caved in to our persistent appeals for round-the-clock amusement. Thankfully, we’re staying in our own cosy motorhome on the spacious Scarborough Camping and Caravanning Club site, about one mile from the top of the North Bay, instead of the cramped caravans that always smelt of gas, stale chip fat and damp.
Apart from a shopping precinct and the inevitable superstores, I can’t help but think
