On the Edge

In my mindset, if something is shown on a map then it is beyond interrogation; it is the truth, the lay of the land, set in stone, or mud, or clay or silt, etc, etc. 

That may of course make me open to scamming from anyone with what they purport to be a treasure map, for example. 

When it comes, however, to such respected and trustworthy map makers as The Ordnance Survey there is no reason to doubt or suspect the representations on the sheet in front of you. 

That was why I was a bit confused yesterday when, relying upon a plan produced from the OS, I had great difficulty in locating a specific property. 

It was not a complex task. 

The address of a bungalow on Seaside Road was simple enough and assisted no end by the knowledge that the road goes nowhere. It terminates at the cliff top of the North Sea Coast of Yorkshire. There was no chance of me getting lost down an endless lane or open rural area.

On my map, in fact a Title Deed Plan for that specific bungalow, it was clearly shown to be in a small group of properties arranged around a sort of close or pedestrian access only walkway and the fifth along the row, working inland. 

The plan also showed a large caravan park, or at least the physical positions of the permanent buildings, typically I expect a Club House, Latrines and Camp Shop and the absence of any actual pitches suggested it to be a site for seasonal tourers. 

It is a nice stretch of coast in that location, just to the south of Hornsea and beyond that the popular “Leeds on Sea” , or as it is really known, Bridlington. 

Generations of holidaymakers from the urban conurbations of South and West Yorkshire will have made their annual trek to this spot for a glorious fortnight, irrespective of the weather. 

There was a definite trend that many of the longstanding seasonal visitors returned in their retirement to take up residence in a clifftop bungalow or chalet. These were largely built in the inter war years out of timber, asbestos, chicken wire, render and bitumen felt as holiday homes but became occupied as a sole residence in modern times.

The house names were certainly a mixture showing inspiration from classic to fancy aspirational, the comic to the inevitable seaside themed. 

Just a sample of the names of the two parallel lines of properties along the cliff top included Kirfree, Ever Breeze, Lazy Days, Santa Monica, Marlon Villa, Bon Accord, Boston Crab and Parklea. Another combination may have come from "his and hers" combinations such as Jorene as in John and Irene, Roylea for Roy and Leanne, Fern Lea for, well perhaps not, Fernando and Leala. 

Not forgetting what was there even before the influx of tourists the map also showed a cluster of buildings, evidently a farmstead with a pair of workers’ cottages, barns and a piggery. 

The gathered population, transient and permanent will have made quite a community. Just further inland is a Public House. I can certainly remember a day trip with my family around 30 years ago when we had a cup of tea and a bag of chips in a traditional café just on the north side of Seaside Road. 

It may have been tempting fate or plain innocence in that one of the clifftop dwellings was called “Au Revoir” as on this section of the fastest eroding cliffs in Europe it will have been one of the first to topple over onto the sand below. 

My map date was 1983. That sounds about right for my recollection of the café experience but in the interim the combined rainwater saturation induced slump and relentless tidal bashing of that section of the East Yorkshire Coast progressed at some pace. 

The unfortunate owners who witnessed the slow creeping loss of, firstly, their front fences followed by bits of gardens,pathways and shortly after their homes will have invested a lot of their hard earned savings and pension monies into those walls and roofs. 

No lending institution will have given a mortgage to a non traditional build and certainly not over the normal 25 year payback term when it was common knowledge that on this stretch of coastline the likelihood was that there would be nothing left to enjoy in an unencumbered state. 

It was a case of heartbreak and ruin in every case. 

As for the bungalow I was visiting. 

Well, it is now the last before the current edge of the cliff. You could measure the distance before the precipice in, say, about five travel rugs. The sheer rate of erosion had thrown me off (not the cliff edge):

The occupants were quite philosophical about their impending fate, ie a move to the nearest town although amazingly they had just sold the property to someone for £25,000. 

Perhaps there is a profile of purchaser who feels that, by house and even caravan and mobile home prices, that it is worth the outlay for but a few years in what may be seen as an increasingly exclusive location.