Ramblings From Robin Hood's Bay

I am currently thawing out after a very entertaining half hour trying to break into a house. Our house, for clarification, I have not suddenly taken up burglary as a career. I can tell you, in no uncertain terms, that standing outside in the freezing cold, calf deep in snow attempting to break into the house is not fun. Made even less fun by the fact that we had the keys, they just decided not to work.

Anyway, as promised here are my ramblings from my week away. It's likely to be a long one. Prepare yourselves accordingly.

1. Fire

One of the main reasons we rented the cottage we did was that it had an open fire. Mr B and I have been dreaming of said open fire and the cosy warmness of it after a day out walking ever since we booked it. So, when we first moved into the cottage, the first thing we did was attempt to light the fire. I say this like we did not know what we were doing, which is not the case. We piled the fire up with paper and kindling, lit it then added coal. The coal then proceeded to do ... absolutely nothing. Had we only been relying on the open fire for atmosphere, this would have been fine. As it was, we were also desperately reliant in it for warmth due to the fact that the living room storage heater was broken and the cottage was quite drafty (but when you ask for a 350 year old cottage, that's what you get, warts and all). We gave up at 9pm and went to bed, a mere 5 hours after we had attempted to get the fire going. The bedroom, by contrast, was like an oven due to the volume of heat coming from its storage heater (which was, ironically, in perfect working order). So perfect in fact, it woke me up in the middle of the night to "store" pointless amounts of heat to heat the house during the day, when we weren't in the house. Helpful. Day two did not fare much better. We had purchased vast quantities of kindling and a bag of logs, thinking that the coal might just not be up to much. After another couple of hours attempting to light the fire, we gave up and went to the nearest Homebase (thus ruining any delusion of living in the wilderness) and purchased an all in one fire lighting thing. This made spectacular flames but gave absolutely no heat. Cue another early night. By day three we were desperate for heat. Mr B had even decided he was going to take up drinking and spend the night in the pub for heat if that's what it took. Fortunately, it turned out that the problem was that the fire needed a good scrub. After that, everything was great and the fire burned. And burned. And burned way past our bed time. Turns out, once you get one going, it takes a really, really, really long time to get it out.

2. The Non-Event That Was Pickering

Day two was a trip to Pickering. It was nice to wander around and I'm sure it would be great if everything hadn't gone into hibernation (tourist attractions included). However, as the whole of Pickering was in hibernation, our visit there consisted of having tea and cake in an empty cafe, walking around an incredibly boggy forest and collecting leaflets for other places to visit (which it turns out were also hibernating for the winter). Note to self : January is not a great time to holiday in the UK

3. Heartbeat (Cue Singing)

On the third day we decided to take a trip to Goathland. More commonly known as Heartbeat, because that's where they filmed Heartbeat. At this juncture, I should point out that neither Mr B or myself watches Heartbeat, nor have we watched it since we were incredibly young children forced to watch whatever our parents wanted on the television. We visited the Heartbeat tourist attractions. Although, that is somewhat over egging the pudding. The so-called attractions were : a local store, some old cars (presumably used in the filming), the garage from the programme with "Scripps Funeral Directors" above the door and the pub, which had a sign for the Aidensfield Arms on one side, and The Goathland Arms on the other (talk about having a split personality). We then decided to take a walk around the moors (a very depressing place to be in the winter, but an enjoyable walk nonetheless). To entertain ourselves as we walked, we sang the theme tune to Heartbeat. It's a good job there was no-one else around!!

4. The Horror of Ravenscar

If you think I'm exaggerating here, I'm not. It was a horror of epic proportions. On day four of our break Mr B and I decided to be adventurous and walk from the Bay to Ravenscar. A mere 3.5 miles. This should have taken approximately one and a half hours. As I'm writing this, Mr B informs me that The Times has listed it as one of the great coastal walks. Yes, there was a lovely scene over Robin Hood's Bay as we walked over. Only, two hours later, we were still looking at the same scene. Except by this point, we were looking at it after having scaled three sets of horrendous stairs (by which I mean as I was climbing them, my knees were touching my chin). Oh, and at least three quarters of the walk was up a relatively steep incline. It was hell. I was on the verge of jumping into the sea and calling the Coastguard to take me home, until Mr B pointed out that that may be more perilous than finishing the walk, getting some lunch and a hot drink, and catching a bus home. At the promise of food, heat and a bus ride back, I was so happy I virtually skipped the rest of the way there. Only to find that Ravenscar's great tourist attraction is ... nothing. Literally nothing. In fact, it prides itself on being "the tourist resort that never was". There is even a visitor centre, which was, predictably, closed. The tea shop was also closed. The only other thing in the area was a hotel. A little ironic, I felt. There was also no bus. I therefore spent a good half hour sat in the hotel eating an overpriced croissant with a cup of hot chocolate (also over-priced) in an attempt to psych myself up for the trauma of walking back. As it transpired, the walk back was much better. Almost all down hill. And it only took an hour and a half, so we were back in time to fight the fire again. Hurrah.

5. Magpie Cafe - The World's Best Fish and Chips

On our last day we had a wander around the Bay before visiting Whitby. It was like visiting the arctic. We walked towards the pier with frozen sea spray hitting us in the face. Mr B watched a very determined elderly lady wandering down the pier (looking as though she would be blown away into the sea at any moment) before deciding that fish and chips at The Magpie Cafe was a much better idea. I have to say, he made the right call. Their fish and chips are simply amazing. It would have been lovely, but for the family sat behind us discussing their latest holiday plans, which included an overnight stay in a hotel. I swear that if the man had said "and the bairn will get a good night's sleep" once more, I would have had to sacrifice my lovely fish and chips to shut him up. Luckily, we escaped in the nick of time!!!

6. Local Potatoes and "Too Close To'T Window"

My final holiday highlights are little conversations Mr B and I overheard on the two nights we ate out. The first was at a hotel where two locals were discussing the virtues of potatoes. I feel that this needs little comment, save to say that one of the locals left for a while and returned with a carrier bag full of "fresh local 'tatas" (that's potatoes to the rest of us) which he just happened to have rattling around the back of his car. I am yet to decide whether there is any situation that requires you to have a secret stash of local "tatas" in the back of your car. If you think of any, please do let me know. I would hate to be under-prepared.

On our last night in the Bay we ate in a lovely pub called "Ye Dolphin". Their food was fabulous, and the entertainment even more so. There was a family also eating that night where the children appeared to be on some kind of scam : it appears that they got their holiday by lying to the school about the reason for their absence and somehow the friend of one of the children was on to them. The parents were helping the children devise ways of dodging this issue with the aforementioned friend whilst not getting into any trouble with the school. I bet they don't teach you how to do that in parenting class. This, however, was not the topic of our amusement. Approximately ten minutes after arriving and sitting at a table, the family abruptly stood up to move because the father of the family was "too cold" (he was only wearing a t-shirt and appeared to have no other clothing with which to warm himself - a very sensible idea if you ask me). The reason for him being "too cold" was that he was "too close to't window" (and you have to imagine this in your very best Yorkshire accent). It resembled something rather like a Peter Kay sketch with the dad skipping around going "it's too cold, too cold, too close to't window, too cold, too close to't window, we've got to move" and then promptly moving to the table directly next to where he had previously sat (and no closer to any source of heat). It made me and Mr B laugh for hours!!

That's all folks.