Sunday, March 02, 2014


A lot of older people in Morecambe come from Yorkshire. In its heyday, it was the resort of choice for Bradford, and the only direct train service to anywhere other than Lancaster still goes to Leeds. However, I meet a lot of people who have lived in this area all their lives, known round here as sandgrown'uns. [Not sure about spelling and punctuation, but you get the idea.]

What these people don't realise is just how weird it is for a Midlander like me to live here. It's not the people, or the accent, or the dialect; it's the sea. Every time I walk for 5 mins to the end of my road I find a small beach, and everything in me says that's wrong. Allow me to explain.

When you live in the Midlands, the sea is a day trip away. From Nottingham, the coast of choice is usually Lincolnshire - Skegness, Mablethorpe, Sutton-on-Sea, Ingoldmells, etc. It's about 80-90 miles and even with modern road improvements it's a good couple of hours. My family liked trying other options, so long drives to Caister, Bude and even Pembrokeshire filled the late 60s and early 70s for me. Wherever we went, the first glimpse of the sea was a competition in the car, and that was the only sea I usually saw - on a couple of holidays each year.

So each day when I go up to the promenade, even after nearly 5 years here, I'm still excited and surprised to see Morecambe Bay. As sea views go, it's one of the best with its tides, its fantastic sunsets and the views of the Lake District in the distance. Every time I see it, something in me wonders if it will soon be time to 'go home', followed by the very happy thought that home is only a few minutes' walk away.

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