September 2024 (but it might as well have been 1984). Driffield.
Before we leave the South worths in Filey I must apologise for not letting them know about the new Wetherspoons on the Haven Holiday Park, worth visiting if early reviews are anything to go by.
You need to be a holidaymaker and do a karaoke version of “Sweet Caroline” for admittance, but I’m sure Joan knows the words.
Driffield is a more sober town, our parking space by the seeds warehouse one of the UKs top campervan spots.
The only downside is you’re over the railway line from town and will spend 2 hours of your life waiting for the train barriers to rise, but the Spread Eagle is an unexpected reward once they do.
Yet another plain, unpretentious, GBG newbie to celebrate, with decent Wold Top Anglers at £3.40 a pint,
a charming landlord, and a mix of backstreet custom taking in suits and young suitors.
The aforementioned Neil Diamond classic comes on, but in the Gents it’s “I am, I’m me” that a bloke is singing along to (3.5).
“Sausage 🌭!!!” shouts the pool player, either after a splendid shot or in reference to Keir’s booboo.
Worryingly, I could still hear Bonnie Tyler singing when I arrived back at the van 10 minutes later.
But what was she singing?
retiredmartin 