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So yesterday I went to Whitby.
Whitby’s where Bram Stoker wrote Dracula and it draws on that so of course I had four or five run-in’s with big-ass, steroid-chugging spiders (who wants a spider, pincers and all, displayed in a glass block ANYWHERE in their house? Who pays for those things?) before I could flee to Kettleness, down the coast.
Kettleness is basically just a few houses and a cliff, but I love it anyway. You can see for miles and it’s totally wild.
I got to take lots of photos of rocks and things (ohh, the thrill…)
“This, children, is an excellent example of sedimentary rock…”
Hell yeah, that’s a Snufkin bag.
I got to spend an hour pondering the colour of my hair. What colour is my hair? Is it blonde or brown? I used to be blonde (diddums…) but now I’m all… I don’t even know.
This was the moment when I was too dope for the camera. Very, very white.
Also saw an absolutely gorgeous sunset when driving back over the North Yorkshire Moors.
See original here:
What would have made this trip better? If I hadn’t found my harmonica in two pieces before I left. Nooooo..!