After a bit of a late night drinking red wine and cooking lager with Al Brydon, Sheffield’s most famous ex-hamster owner, I was a little too jaded to head into the hills – there was no way I was going to survive if I was any more than 30 minutes away from fatty food. So once Al had set off back to sunny Sheffield and the family and I had consumed some form of high calorie lunch we headed off to a blustery Seascale.
On a visit here years ago I must confess that I wrote this place off as the most depressing seaside town in England, but I think my views were somewhat clouded by having just bashed my car. Now I find myself feeling a massive amount of respect for people willing to make their lives in what isn’t the most forgiving of environments – even on this not spectacularly unpleasant October afternoon it was still reasonably hard to open the car door because of the wind.
Leaving her indoors to keep an eye on the kids on the playground I set off up the beach for a bracing half an hour before the rain started.
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