More than a quarter of a century ago a young Laban, on his way to a party given by a college friend, stepped off a bus on a filthy November night in a small Northern seaport he'd never visited. That night he met his future wife - and he fell in love with the town, too. The town with this gravestone :
And this magnificent cake shop :
And this pier :
We met up with the girl who gave the party all those years back (now lives in California) and a few of the other nurses they used to work with. Just as much chat, if somewhat less alcohol, my daughter and California daughter got on like a house on fire, and sons walked the mean streets (and they are mean after dark) and arcades.
There are some signs that the place is trying to go upmarket - the old Marine cafe of chips-with-everything teas is now a shiny brasserie-type bar, and several other places have been revamped in a similar Swedish kitchen showroom style. I deplore these tendencies. Fewer fishing boats every visit, too.
These herring, waiting to be smoked, come from Norway.
But it's still a wonderful and beautiful place.
Blogging will recommence when I've unpacked ....
Scope for Mischief Here
3 hours ago