retiredmartin

March 2026. Hornsea. East Yorkshire.

Saturday at home in Sheffield means tearing at the leash to get out Sunday, despite, you know, weeds to pull and all that.

Two hours later I’m in Hornsea for my penultimate East Yorkshire tick, which given there’s only three (3) newbies to begin with isn’t that impressive.

Whereas Hornsea impresses me on each visit (probably once a decade), and has a few Proper Pubs alongside its Outlet Centre and chips by the beach offer. Bicester-by-the-Sea, perhaps ?

No idea what the appeal of that Mere is, and only a micropub on Swan Island will persuade me to explore it.

But it’s heaving. First day of March, traffic at gridlock, gentlefolk sniffing daffs (NOT a punk band), popping in tat shops and looking for lunch.

All quite cute,

particularly these steps that help smaller folk reach the post box.

I’m here for Stack, which sort of used to be Stack House on the same road,

and is now a high quality beer house with top welcome for a Dad and his Lad and a few solo drinkers.

High quality Indie Babble (daft name, top malty pint NBSS 4),

and the first sighting of the three (3) flying duckies on a wall since my Aunts in Eaton Bray in 1976.

Coincidentally, the Shack was also playing musical highlights from that Summer of ’76.

Lovely place.

And is there anywhere more delightful than the English seaside on the first day of “meteorological” Spring ?

Flip flops and spades being sold at the converted loos, the foam lashes against the promenade (in my ear);

Retired Martin has a bargain haddock and chips (NF&CTSS 3.5) from the Seafront Chippy.

Life is sweet.