Two views on Scunthorpe from my readers.
The Venice of the North, says Pete, from Brum.
The real mastermind behind BRAPA has a different view, as Simon reports;
“As I turned my lights out and drifted off, my phone buzzed. I noticed it was a text from the legendary Tom Irvin. Too tired to see what it said, probably he’s just passing Scunthorpe and saying everyone is a bastard”.
Not many trips to Sunny Scunny since I started this blog, but a decade ago I made an afterwork trip for fish and chips in Yarborough Road, Grimsby and a half in Winterton, admiring the glow of the steelworks on a beautiful May evening.
Folk at work the next morning refused to believe I’d made this 6 hour journey for chips and a tick, EXACTLY the sort of thing I’m missing most now.
The George Hogg in Winterton is/was a cracker; Simon thought so too, and he had Bass.
As for Scunny, well.
The art came as a surprise, the rundown social clubs and mobility scooters less so.
Indie had craft keg and proper coffee. And umbrellas.
Two perennial GBG entries in the centre, and the Malt Shovel in the suburb of Ashby
You probably guessed there’d be a Spoons.
Proper inside mobs Spoons, too.
If this is all sounding familiar, I only did Scunny a year ago, but I’m more than happy to recycle my stuff forever. So sue me.
The Honest Lawyer lived down to its name.
Interesting town, but rather a contrast with the craft-laden treasures of Middlesbrough.
They’re smashing the Corona here, though.