Coventry...

Spent yesterday evening in a Coventry pub with son Chas and an extraordinarily animated Italian woman, Stefania, who is a reader at Birmingham University. In comparison to her, Chas and I looked so English, so undemonstrative, so immobile. Her face registered two or three different emotions every second, and she backed up her words with sweeping hand movements, which were so descriptive that I could probably have followed her gist even with my fingers in my ears. When she talked about other people, she seamlessly 'became' them. If I ever wanted to illustrate a book on body language, I could just set up my camera on a tripod, ask her about Donald Trump, or Brexit or middle-eastern politics, and keep on taking pix…

Shepherd's Pie...

Had a boozy evening in Scarborough, followed by a more abstemious evening in York (I was assured that no animals were harmed in the making of the excellent Shepherd’s Pie). On the road again now, heading south to Coventry…

The beach at Whitby...

Shopping...

I don't do much shopping, because I'm trying to lighten the load in the Romahome rather than adding to it.  Even though I now have a Kindle, I have too many books. But I went on a spending spree yesterday and bought a new towel. Happy days...

Whitby...

In Whitby last night, or, rather, above Whitby, because the road down to the harbour was closed due to the ‘tidal surge’ that was expected about midnight. I walked down to the harbour, but, apart from a few sandbags, things looked pretty normal.

I was back down by the harbour again this morning, with my camera. People were dealing with sand, mud, debris and standing water along the harbourside road, but, fortunately, the tide hadn’t been high enough to get into any buildings that I could see…

Winter draws on...

Still in East Yorkshire, where a light covering of snow and a biting wind make the flat landscape seem rather bleak. I’m dressed for the cold - long johns and fingerless gloves - which make me look like I’m going to rifle through the bins. A good opportunity to write, and keyword pix…

Transfer of power...

Donald Trump still seems like a fictional character; it’s hard to believe he will occupy the Oval Office in the White House next week. I don’t hope he’ll be assassinated; I’m not even hoping he’ll have a heart attack. He’ll have four years in the job, though I’m not sure he’ll last that long.

In his last speech as president, Barack Obama talked about the importance of “the peaceful transfer of power from one freely-elected president to the next”, which, if he never said another word in his life, would still make him ten times the man that Trump is…

Fish & Chips...

I found a fish & chip shop in Patrington purely by smell, following my nose around this tiny market town in rural Humberside. A poster on the wall announced that you could buy Fish & Chip Vouchers, adding - unnecessarily, I thought - that they were an ideal present for anyone who loves fish & chips. On what particular occasions, I wondered, as I waited for my haddock, chips and scraps, would a Fish & Chip Voucher make an acceptable gift. Birthday? Christmas? Wedding anniversary?…

Hull Marina...