Rain in Great Ayton

I love July! Especially the 10th of July. You see it's my Birthday. Over the years I have seen some wickedly alcofrolic birthdays, in fact it's a wonder I can remember them. But the sensibility of experience, not to mention a definite allergy to most alcoholic drinks (except a pint or so of cider) means birthdays are now much more sober affairs. That doesn't mean I enjoy them any less. This year's birthday was a really lovely one. Here it is in pictures. Yes, the Rainwoman strikes again!

 And where are we? Saltburn on Sea. We did a 2 hour walk to build up our appetite for fish n chips, did a quick up and down of the pier, and had a look round the shops. Saltburn is a lovely seaside town, but I have to say it was very quiet, probably due to the bad weather. But it wasn't cold, and our hostess with the most-ess  Pauline, looked after us so well. 

 We walked right to the end of the cliff, known as  Hunt Cliff, before descending to the beach for a bit of beach combing (fossil hunting). 

We walked back up to the town, but the Funicular was working, at £1 per person.

 A plethora of knitted sea creatures etc decorate the railings of the pier.

 Here she is, friend, Pauline. She made my birthday really special, and kept me out of the pub, the smugglers cottage you can see at the bottom of the cliffs.

Once a tour guide, always a tour guide! 

I wonder if this was my Face Book friend, Jay Tee? 

 So close, yet we did resist the temptation.

The rain was passing over here. But the day before it was torrential in Great Ayton. No chance of a photo of our trip there. However we enjoyed every minute, and got to see the Schoolroom Museum where Captain Cook learned to read, and I discovered The Cleveland Bard, John Wright, who in 1862 built a house in Great Ayton called The Recess. 

 Where did you get that Hat, where did you get that smile?

 Yes! I did get my cider fix. And we went to the wonderful Chocolini's chocolate shop in Saltburn, where I bought scrumptious gluten free dark chocolates. Check out their Face Book page by clicking on the link above.

And Pauline cooked the most wonderful meal for us, with a surprise birthday cake.
So, another year has passed, full of fun, thanks to friends and family.







Here's the 'rainy day' poem that came from our trip to Great Ayton:

Rain in Great Ayton

It started as summer drizzle, hardly

enough to make our hair frizz, a subtle,

soft, refreshing mist that could have been bought

at the supermarket, or the more expensive

sort, aqua-vitalis, from Debenhams.

Spray direct to face, avoiding eyes.

Then the crows disappeared, and the sky turned

grey: north-sea-grey, harbinger-of-doom-grey,

a dark, mercury-grey, a grey that gained

momentum, a mineral-laden grey,

a Chernobyl-grey, an isotopic,

acid, car corroding, window-wiping grey,

a shwishy, puddles-on-the-pavement grey,

a virtual Turner, Fishermen at Sea grey.

And by the time my friend had ripped open

the Velcro fastener, and wrestled with

the mechanics of her old umbrella

there was a deluge, substantial enough

to fill the beck with rafts, enough to drive

rats into holes, enough to raise man-hole

covers. We ran, scurried in fact, to the

nearest shop. That’s when my umbrella

(probably older than hers) refused to open.

I fought back to the point I thought it would break,

but it remained stubborn, it flapped half-mast,

my hand inside it over my head.

When I reached the door, the spokes were stuck in

an angry-duck-refusing-to-fold-its-wings,

pose. I shook it, held it out full stretch,

and prodded the rain, like some deranged fencer,

with my makeshift rapier, en guard. That’s when

a gust of wind ripped it inside out and left

me holding a giant squid on the end of a stick.

My hair frizzed beyond curls.

So, onwards and upwards in my clickety-click year. Actually the umbrella survived, you have to allow me a bit of poetic license.

July is not over yet, and I have more adventures planned, so I hope you will return to my blog to find out what happens next in this poet's life.

Talk soon,

Love and hugs,

Jane x