Whitby, Whelks and Wave Dodging

Whitby on a Bank Holiday Monday is insane. I can see that it is probably a most delightful little harbour town; but after fifteen minutes of trying to push against a heaving tide of humanity with an elderly person in tow, I am desperate to leave it.

The only redeeming feature is the dogs. I have never seen so many dogs!! North Yorkshire would appear to be totally awash with poodles and pugs, setters and shi-tzus, labradors and lurchers. I am so distracted by cute little whiskery faces, that I don't know which way to turn.

But nonetheless it is a relief when, after our whelks, we finally decide we have all had enough; and head back across the moors to Scarborough. This is the best part of the day - when the sun has finally broken through the cloud, and sends shadows scudding across the fields and gorse.

Parking up on Marine Drive, we decide to walk right round to South Sands where there is a cafe selling "proper" (ie Italian) coffee. Mother-in-law goes great guns, and at times I am struggling to keep up. On the walk back, we idly remark upon the damp patches on the boardwalk without carrying this observation through to its logical conclusion. Cause and effect are amply demonstrated only minutes later, when a huge wave washes over the sea wall and completely drenches all three of us, as well as a family walking a few paces ahead.

Mother-in-law has incredible spirit and joie-de-vivre. Despite her "holiday" perm being ruined, and her hearing aid having packed up in protest, she laughs louder than any of us. Except possibly myself. I am so saturated, that not an inch of my clothing has escaped the deluge.

As we drip back to the car, belatedly reading the signs which warn of waves overshooting the boardwalk, I think how wonderful it feels to really really laugh. It might surprise some of the people I work with, but I laugh a lot! I laugh in meetings of my support group (possibly some of the most entertaining experiences of my week). I laugh in rehearsals of the community choir, when the men astound us all by getting it right first time. My sisters and I spent most of our time in Valencia laughing. And I laugh constantly when I am with my husband, because he is still the funniest, sharpest and wittiest person I have ever met.

I would love to laugh at work.
But I never do.
Not any more.

Pity.