East Coast Story

'Didn't we have a luverly time, the day we drove through Yorkshire!  A beautiful day, we had lunch on the way....  Except we didn't. Not for want of trying though.

We fancied fish and chips, in the car, overlooking the sea. The place on Scarborough seafront didn't do take-away so, as it was still early, we decided to carry on up the A171 to a cafe we know with a lovely view, on the edge of the moors. Closed. Never mind, still plenty of time to go on to Ruswarp, where there's a cafe with a pretty garden next to the river - but that was closed too.  We still fancied fish and chips really, so on to Sleights, where, I was assured, there's a 'fish and chip emporium'.  Sure enough, there is.  Also closed.

We were really hungry by now, so hurried back down to Pickering, where there are at least two fish and chip shops.  The first one we tried was even open... but not until 3.30  and it was still only 2 o'clock.  Back round the town then, and there they were... cheerful signs by the roadside, pointing the way.... to another shop that was closed.

Oh well, the best fish and chips is from Wetwang anyway {yes, honestly, it is a real place} which was on the way home.  And that shop is always open.  Except today.   OK, I know it was Sunday, but there was a time when fish and chips was all you could get on a Sunday.  Was yesterday some kind of fish-fryers' festival?  Had they all gone off on their annual outing?  Or is there suddenly a world shortage of batter?  It was in mystified and melancholy mood that we drove home for soup and mince.

There's no plaice for us; of cod no trace for us.

Salt and vinegar, golden chips will not pass our lips.

There's no take-away.  No fish and chips today.

In cafe yes, but not in the street; no good things to eat.

Lights off, doors are closed.  It's not as we supposed;

signs say 'open' but clearly lie. No-one here will fry.

Just minced meat for us; no batter beat for us.

In the vat lies the tepid oil; still and thick, fails to boil.

No chips! No fish! Nowhere!