Sunday, September 24, 2017


I am at Whitby by the Sea, that iconic English town that I am so familiar with, from art and story.  I walk through the crowds of families, multi generational, of women ( few flowing dresses or colourful umbrellas on this September day), of men chatting while waiting for shoppers.  I see many mothers and daughters, I wish to share this adventure with mine. 

Our travelling companion/tour guide, Heather meets her sister, after treating us to a fabulous lunch.  I have kippers, they are caught and then smoked in the hill under the Abbey stairs.  Today is a day for trying new things,
smoked fish is a favourite of mine, and kippers were indeed enjoyed!  

The desserts ah, the desserts, new Bristish delights, so many cakes, so little time. One hundred and ninety nine stairs to the Abbey justify, perhaps, trying three.  Custard and plum crisp win the favourite on this tasting opportunity. 

Liw, Susan and I head off to the Abbey.   The stairs are old, many feet have gone this way. The Abbey, which overlooks those famous Whitby beach scenes, dates back to a monastery in the seventh century.

I wander alone and in the company of others, beloved ones and strangers, reflecting.  I want to remember it all, the history, the beauty, the energy.  I snap photo after photo, seeking light, reflected, reflecting.

The time comes to return from the Abbey, to meet Heather again.  We walk down.  The beach is gone , the ocean has returned to the shore.  There are rose gardens at this landing, I go to explore and I see more gardens, beauty. 

To my left another garden calls, it has a sign. 
I go.
I read, 

Dementia Awareness Garden. 

gkn September 2017

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