Initial impressions weren't bad at all. Hornsea was a small tidy town without great pretensions, which concentrated on presenting a pleasant face to the world. It was more upmarket than Withernsea. The tone was genteel. A town for nice middle-income families and the comfortably retired, but too ordinary and unglamorous for the very well off.
I noted that it had a well-maintained park in the town centre. I parked next to this. Now what was that sound?
Ah, a brass band! Correction: the Driffield Silver Band - Driffield being an inland town a few miles away. Giving a performance to an appreciative seated crowd. A trumpet solo was just beginning. I looked over the park railings and stayed to hear it to the end. Cheerful, foot-tapping stuff, perfect for a lazy Sunday afternoon in East Yorkshire!
Almost as an afterthought, it occurred to me to video this trumpet solo, rather than just take still pictures. Unfortunately this short take still exceeded 100MB (Blogger's video clip limit) and I can't show it to you in full. A pity, because it was impressive. Here's a trimmed, lower-quality version, which will have to do instead (give it a little time to load up):
The Driffield Silver Band is in fact one of the country's major brass bands. No wonder they sounded so smooth and professional. Its website is here: http://www.driffieldband.com/.
Still humming the trumpet solo, I next headed for the sea front.
Well, the expected popular seaside entertainments were all there, but somehow less tacky than at Withernsea. (Gosh, I can never, never return to Withernsea now, not without risking dire retribution from the townspeople) Although it was more than halfway through the afternoon, I had a sudden urge to consume a portion of chips as a kind of second lunch. I took them down to the promenade, sat on a low wall, and watched the passers-by while enjoying the chips - just as many other people were doing. It seemed to be the default activity.
And, allowing for the high tide, what was the beach like? Well, rather nicer than at Withersea. And - quite unlike that unfortunate place - the beach was inviting, easily accessible and had some people on it, having fun.
Now what was this strange sculpture?
It turned out to be the end of the Trans-Pennine Trail, one of those long-distance footpaths. But there were no footsore walkers collapsed at its foot.
Back at the park, all was quiet. The Driffield Silver Band was packing up. But then they lined up for a photo.
Presumably someone from the local press had made the request for an 'official' photograph, although anybody, myself included, could take a snap too. I thought they looked resplendent, with their gleaming instruments and natty teal-coloured waistcoats. Same colour as my still-new bag from Pittards. An amazing coincidence.
There was one more thing I wanted to see: the Hornsea Mere, a large lake on the inland side of the town. But there was nowhere to park Fiona. So this was the one disappointment.
Actually, not the only one. I had needed some diesel, and saw that the town had a Tesco. Having filled up, I presented my phone at the till, but was firmly informed (it was almost a case of 'you Southerners are the frozen limit') that 'Tesco didn't accept contactless payments using Google Pay'. It had to be through Tesco's own contactless payment app. Really? Oh, how annoying.
I delved into my bag, making a deliberate fuss of it. Eventually I disinterred my credit card, and paid using old-fashioned chip and PIN. This performance wound up the checkout lady, but as she had been so snotty with me, I wanted to demonstrate clearly to her that Tesco was making a bad mistake in making its customers use a dedicated payment app linked to its Clubcard, and not a universal one. It was very inconvenient and irritating for people like me, who were not regular customers.
In fact it made me resolve to use Tesco even less in future. Silly people!
