Scarborough return...

Was in Scarborough last night. Should really blog about why I've been heading up there. I will. Problem with heading to North Yorkshire at night is that, if you're there beyond lighting up time, there's no public transport to bring you back. So, a kind soul gave me a lift back into East Yorks, to Bridlington Train Station. Not only that, but they arranged for the Station Buffet to be opened especially for me. The place is leased and operated by a nice gent called John Sadler, who kept me company for the hour that I had to kill between arriving in Brid and the train departing for Hull. I bought a couple of pints of Amstel and, after explaining that I was knocking back ale in one of only three surviving original station buffets in the country, John told me all about the collection of rail memorabilia that he's collected since taking the place over. He was a funny guy. He had some good signs mounted on the walls, amid brass plaques and nameplates aplenty, as you can see from the pic. Apparently, the place has had a lot of media coverage and the latest visitor with a camera crew was Michael Portillo, who was in town to film his Great Train Journeys series (the journey this time around being Liverpool to Scarborough via Hull). John reckons it will be broadcast next year. "He filmed me sat in here" said John, nodding in the general direction of the bar, the terrazzo floor and mahogany skirting boards, "then he caught me later watering the flowers." There's a big crack in the floor, the result of a train crashing into the buffers a few years ago. Other problems at the station have included gangs of youths hanging around, abusing drugs and beating up the odd passenger waiting on the platform. "They used to bother us a lot. So I started to lock the station and when there was any trouble I'd phone the police and ask them to log the incident. They soon started taking it seriously." John told me about the night someone was stabbed and how his sixth sense now helps him spot "them that's after trouble." He looked at me and I wondered if his sixth sense was kicking in. "I know when it's about to kick off," he chuckled. Brief encounter indeed.