I woke up early this morning ready to seize the day. But to be honest, I didn’t really know what Whitby had to offer as far as “seizing” opportunities went. I knew it had a lighthouse and an Abbey. Both sounded pretty cool, so I figured I would start there.
What I didn’t realize – Whitby is a hot, party spot … for 70-year-olds.
My people.
There was quite an influx of white hair early this morning, and I was loving it.
I bought a vanilla chai latte and lemon pound cake, and I found a harbor bench. I soaked up the sun like a Londoner who’s been vitamin D deprived.
After my nutritional breakfast, I wandered. It was basically impossible to get lost in Whitby, so I did my very best to do so. There were so many tiny alleyways to venture down, tiny little bookshops and candy stores to discover.
And I can’t forget to mention the lighthouse that I climbed. No clue how many steps it took, but I might have (definitely) gotten claustrophobic on the way up.
One thing that I really needed to check off my UK list? Fish and chips. A coastal town seemed like a good spot for it. I saw the sign “award-winning” and figured they knew what they were doing.
As I was heading to a harbor bench to enjoy my takeaway dinner, a monster seagull came swooping down and snagged a piece of my fish.
Freaking seagulls. They’re basically the frat boys of the animal kingdom.
Thoughts on fish and chips? Eeehhhhh. I mean, they’re good. But also super bland. Can I have some spices, please? (Yes, I put salt and vinegar on it.) I need some Lawry’s, hot sauce, BBQ… anything.
As I watched the tide roll out, I thought to myself, “I would like to walk down the beach.”
So that’s what I did.
I bought myself an ice cream, rolled up my pants, took off my sandals, and walked the (pretty cold) beach.
The sun on my face, the wind blowing my hair. Whitby, you’re lovely.
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