I’m not keen on tourist traps. I never have been.
But there is something so endearing about Whitby, the
fishing town in North Yorkshire (well East Yorkshire really) that trades
healthily on its Bram Stoker/Dracula roots and the somewhat famous Mermaid fish
and chip restaurant.
The Mermaid has long-since been equalled, if not now in some
instances eclipsed by other fish and chip establishments in the town serving
equally good fish and chips, although the town’s fish and chip legacy very much
still remains somewhat with the Mermaid.
There is now a plethora of cosy tea rooms, as well as shops
selling the wonderful tat so often missing from our regular high streets –
funny fruit bowls, freaky flowerpots and silly signs to hang on the bathroom
door suggesting wild and wacky ways of warning people that your eldest son is
in there flatulently on his mobile Facebook. And all reasonably-priced to boot.
And there’s also the Captain Cook Maritime Museum.
Perhaps it’s the fact that all visitors seem to throw their
inhibitions away, remove their miserable city demeanours and become uber-friendly
towards one another. Or perhaps it’s that every shop and café has a “Dogs
Welcome Here” sign. Or that the hair braiders and wooden plant-pot sellers in
the town hall arches have never changed in over two decades. Or is it the
tiring hundred steps up to the old Abbey where a plasticated ice-cream from a
van will cost the same price as a home-made one from one of the town’s shops
and the sudden arrival of a standard double-decker bus causes a ripple of
surprise amongst those who have struggled to negotiate the hundred steps to the
top of the hill overlooking the town?
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