Darlington

The wet and blustery evening gave way to a Sunday morning of brilliant sunshine.  We awoke to the sound of seagulls and the seaside.  Our B+B hostess, Kath put on a lovely breakfast of locally caught and smoked kippers and told us her amazing story of researching and writing a book on her father's time in the RAF. That and the international leads that have resulted, all from one man's story and sleepy ol' Robin Hood's Bay.  

Our taxi driver to Whitby train station was another charismatic local - Yorkshire seems to be full of them. We were early for our train so we sat on the platform in the sunshine looking onto the hill over town where the ruins of Whitby Abbey shone bright against the blue sky.  It's a shame we couldn't stay here longer to explore the famous Whitby jet, links with Captain Cook, Bram Stoker's Dracula, and legendary fish and chips.  Next time maybe.

The train journey via Middlesbrough was pretty uneventful except it took us past some familiar names - Grosmont, Egton and Glaisdale.  Places which were separated by days on the trail and yet the train passed through in a matter of minutes.  We could only smile.

Once in Darlington it was onto our rest stop for the night - the Bannatyne Hotel, a grand old house converted to a hotel and our lovely room overlooking the garden.    We wandered into town for some lunch and a look around.  Being Sunday most shops were closed but there did seem to be a lot of motorcycles on display in one of the central streets.  This probably explained why Ross' eyes grew large like saucers...

Motorbikes on display in Darlington

Their proud owners were hovering around the glorious machines and ranged from the seriously tattooed to more respectable folk - all enthusiasts regardless.

A seriously fancy machine

The town centre didn't have much to recommend it and seemed afflicted by the same malaise affecting so many other towns - vacant shops and a surfeit of charity shops.  Feeling oddly bereft and a little guilty at not walking today, later in the afternoon we took up our taxi driver's suggestion and walked to one of Darlington's attractions, 'South Park' (seriously).

South Park clock tower

It is the oldest public park in North East England and grant money in recent years has restored it (almost) to the grandeur of its Victorian heyday.  There's no doubt it's a beautiful park but it's telling that the cab driver couldn't think of anywhere we should go in Darlington except a park.  Hmmm. 

In South Park

And on our way back to the hotel - GASP!  Unbelievably my shoe dramas continue.  Perhaps in sympathy for the poor little shoes that met their end in Robin Hood's Bay, my 'spare' (and now 'only') pair of shoes decided to start coming away at the sole.  Either there is a sinister universal conspiracy afoot (pardon the pun) or I'm walking my way through lots of shoes and this is just an ugly coincidence.  Either way, with shops closed, I didn't have a lot of options.  Ross saved the day again (with hastily and fortuitously purchased superglue)!  Objective for the next couple of days: new shoes.  For now, superglue is again holding my world together.