Filey Week 1

 I wrote this at the beginning of the Season before last having got the idea by walking on the seafront at the beautiful resort town of Filey with no one else in sight..........


The flags currently missing from their seasonal vigil over the beach at Filey are expected back from the dry cleaners any day now. In the stiff March breeze there is a just discernible sound from the freshly white painted poles as they oscillate. A spinning dinner plate would not look amiss on the very pinnacle. When dressed in the colours of the Yorkshire rose, a Union flag and miscellaneous emblems from tourist awards the same poles will give the right impression to the expected car loads of day visitors and guests who will flock to the town as the warmer weather approaches at Easter

The beach huts are securely padlocked. In sequence the wooden door fronts are brightly painted in yellow, red, green, blue and in that repeating sequence resemble a long line of jubilee bunting. It is strange to see the doors firmly closed when for the main seasonal months they will be wide open and welcoming almost on a 24/7 basis. The concrete path on Royal Parade is clean and clear which is a departure from the sandy residues of a hundred or more flip flops which form a small raised dune in the peak weeks of summer.

One of the kiosk owners has shown confidence and optimism by opening up on the third friday in March. An elderly couple from Leeds expend part of their winter heating allowance on their first ice cream of the year. A few brave souls stretch their tendons as they struggle down the steep Crescent Hill and rest briefly and breathlessly on the slatted benches just above the cobble stone slipway. The large colourful tourist information board displays black and white photographs from the halcyon days of the Edwardian period. Bulky bathing machines on cast iron wheels have been left stranded from the retreating tide in one of the pictures. The bathers have more clothes on than the well attired visitors on the beach road. Seeing this a young family from Pontefract firmly zip up their cagoules having been reminded that it is actually quite a cold day.

In the distance on the western crescent edge of Filey Bay the eye catches the bright white edifice that is the former residence of Billy Butlin. The art deco building is looking quite healthy following a number of years of neglect during which the paintwork had tarnished to yellow like plaque and nicotine stained teeth. Under its progressively stepped flat roofs it resembles the superstructure of a battleship in a commanding position.

The public loos have also been spruced up for the approaching season. Visitors with prostate problems or just an over indulgence on pots of tea hesitate at the doorway and peer into the dark void beyond. They have to discover that a few further footsteps activate the new sensor operated light as part of the Borough Council commitment to reducing  energy costs. The newly painted surfaces have covered up the last 12 months of vandalism and graffitti although an early visitor has etched his mark on the inner face of a cubicle door.

It is prime time for every conceivable breed of dog to claim the narrow strip of sandy beach as the tide turns. They have until the 5th May when the ban is introduced to confine them and their confused senses to a walk on the lead on the pathway above that interesting and easily excavated playground. Well at least until the end of September shockingly equivalent to nearly three and a half dog years.

The proprietors of the seafront cafes and tea rooms look busy in footing the lower rung of ladders on which their staff or the town handyman lubricates the canvas sun canopy, or under instruction apply a lick of paint to the flaking fascias and signage. A few couples hang around the forecourts of the B&B's or holiday flats having arrived a tad early to kick off their shoes and roll about giggling on the king size bed, sea view or no sea view.

Jon and Kerry look out of their kitchen window on the early season activities and comings and goings. They have enjoyed the relative downtime of the winter months but it is nearly time to accept that they are firmly back on the front line. The spreadsheet for bookings for the holiday apartments is quickly becoming full with names, numbers and payment details. The persistent ringing of the telephone is like the whistle to signify that it is indeed time to go over the top into the incessant battleground that is Filey awakening to another onslaught of a spring and summer season. They, and the town, are more than ready.