Its a long time since I’ve been to Whitby (I think I was last there while I was living in Tokyo).
This was a smaller affair, only a couple of hundred people at the Metropole. There were three nights arranged, 30th, 31st and 1st, with the highlight obviously being the 31st to see in the new year.
Now, most of you know I’m not much one for celebrating new year, I like to mark it and recognise it as a time to think afresh about how life is going but the celebration itself doesn’t have much interest for me – theres too much drinking and silliness for my liking, and I feel a bit like I’m bringing people down by not joining in.
evilmattikinz was teaching us Briscola on a 40 card deck while simonsatori left his (replica, I assume) firearm on the table giving our corner the air of an illegal drinking/gambling den of years passed.
The new year was seen in without major catastrophes and a fabulous time was had by all. Though somehow I was feeling a bit detached from it, the crowd has changed in the time I’ve been away, or maybe its really a different crowd where I was expecting it to be the same. For a start I didn’t actually know many people there, and anyway everyone appeared to be very coupled off, so they were there to have a pleasant middle class, middle aged time with their partner of choice trying to relive some of their wild youth in a safe environment. This worries me, since the environment is very different to that I knew only a couple of years ago. (I’m not sure I’ve really explained what I’m feeling properly here…and I’m aware this could be read as being negative, its not intended to be, more of a ‘this isn’t me’ feeling…best thing to do would be to talk to me about it next time you see me if you think I’m being critical, I can probably explain myself better in person).
Variously over the weekend we visited the abbey, watched the bridge open a couple of times, visited the basement of the Metropole (hardly the souterrain it was sold to us as, but quite a fascinating insight into the way the place works), walked on the beach, banquetted and avoided indoor minigolf.
Probably the closest thing to excitment was the following:
“I’m awake”
“Why is my light on?”
“Oh, they’re just cleaning my room”
“I’ll cough and they’ll realise I’m here and come back later”
“Oh, they didn’t”
“What time is it?”
“5:23”
“I better go and have a look”
…sees young lady using bathroom (single rooms in the b&b without bathroom doors, such was the smallness of the room)
“Oh, I’m sorry”
…retreats back around the corner to bed
“You’re in the wrong room”
(all my thoughts or words, I assume she must have tried to communicate but I don’t remember any of it)
Which might teach me to lock the room when I fall into bed, but probably won’t. And I told you it wasn’t worthy of gossip.
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