North Yorkshire Coast #1

[ Photo Gallery # 78 ]

After my three Photo Galleries displaying the delights of Whitby, my next two galleries will cover some of the delights of the Yorkshire coast further north, now named the ‘North Yorkshire and Cleveland Heritage Coast’.

‘Heritage Coast’ sign at Sandsend

A sea mist masks the church and gravestones of the coastal village of Hawsker

Evening view to the north from the beach at Sandsend

Rough sea looking south towards Whitby from Sandsend.

Misty morning beside Westbek at Sandsend

The picturesque artists’ village of Runswick Bay

High tide in the bay at Runswick

Further view of Runswick Bay

The old mining village of Skinningrove where the Kilton Beck meets the North Sea and still runs red with the iron deposits carried down from the surrounding hills .  Known as ‘Britain’s Iron Valley’.

Kilton Culvert (N.B. not one of my own photographs)

Three views of the ‘Repus’ Cobble, an old Skinningrove fishing boat now positioned looking out to the North Sea from the beach at Skinningrove.

It is not clear why this cobble has been named ‘Repus’, but it has been pointed out that the name spells ‘Super’ backwords!

Manning the prow of the ‘Repus’ Cobble

LIFE IN A REFUSE BIN

 

This ‘bit of fun’ with simple rhyming couplets, was prompted by my photograph (above), taken on the promenade at Sandsend, a small holiday resort, near Whitby, on the North Sea coast of Yorkshire.

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A refuse bin … A refuse bin

All life is in a refuse bin.

#  #  #

Amidst the rubbish and the tat
There lie a hat, a mat, a rat;
Daily Mail-wrapped fish and chips
Taco, shrimp and truffle dips;
Damaged shoes and flip-flops too;
Pair of pants that once were blue.
Ice cream cones and such detritus;
Discarded puffer for bronchitis.
Shells and seaweed in there, also
A print of ‘Blue Nude’ by Picasso.
Doll’s head, torso, and an arm;
Half a sixpence – lucky charm!
Apple peelings, apple cores,
Offcuts from old vinyl floors.
Broken pencil, bunch of keys,
Half a sandwich filled with cheese.
Old bus tickets, betting slips,
Laddered tights and broken zips.
Cigarette butts by the score.
Plastic bags just washed ashore.
Bric-a-brac, old junk and scrap;
Two hairnets, a baseball cap.
Flotsam, Jetsam, garbage, waste.
Can of worms, a jar of paste.
Empty tins that once held coke.
It really is beyond a joke.
Lubricant, petroleum jelly,
Whole salami from the deli.
Junkie’s needles, discarded syringe,
Vestige of an all-night binge.
All remnants of a life of sin
. . . All denizens of a refuse bin.

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Clothes and food for any family
Enough to live on very happily.
But waste disposal at the beach
Cries out loud for a dose of bleach.
But soon all this will ‘go to waste’
Unfit for someone else’s taste.

#  #  #

But wait a moment, I can see
A scene as if it’s on TV.
A family playing in the sand
Oblivious in their own dreamland.
Quite unaware that they’re within
And central to a refuse bin.

#

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