It’s often said that you shouldn’t revisit holiday destinations that you haven’t been to in years. The nostalgic myth is often shattered, everything has changed for the worse, it’s too commercial etc. I felt this recently after an unexpected trip to my birthplace, Grimsby.
My family moved away from there when I was just one year old but my father’s mother and many relatives still lived there so we went each year for our summer holiday until I left home, staying with my gran and enjoying the seaside delights of its neighbour, Cleethorpes. I can still remember speculating with my brother as we paddled in the sea whether the land we could see in the distance was America or France, in reality it was Hull…
Back to the present and unfortunately my father’s last sibling, my aunt Monica, recently passed away and I thought I should show support by attending the funeral. It would also be a chance to see the myriad cousins I hadn’t met since I visited the area some fifteen years ago when I paraded my newly born daughter.
As I was travelling from London I had to get the train, it’s a relatively short three and a half hours with one change at Doncaster but when I stepped down from the train it was snow I saw rather than any green grass. I had arrived nearly three hours before the funeral because any later would have meant an extra £80 on the fare and I wanted to visit some of my old haunts, that was my mistake.
I had three main places to go, the house where I was born, my gran’s old place and a shop that piqued my interest in electronics when I was a boy, eventually leading to my current role as a software developer.
I had searched for Grimsby Electronics online before leaving and there was an Amazon store for it. It gave an address not far from where the shop used to be and a phone number so this was going to be my first stop. It used to be a cross between Maplins and a junk shop, full of boxes of old circuit boards being sold for 10p each, which I used to buy and see what the different components did. They were also one of the few places you could by fibre optic cable which was only just being used. It was from parts there that my brother Peter and I built one of our favourite gadgets, a bedside light that went out when the bedroom door was opened. It meant we could read in bed without worrying about any parent wandering in and telling us off. They probably knew all about it but had the good grace not to let on.
I alighted from the train and showed the address to the nearest cab driver, he said it was only a few minutes away, I’d be better to walk, so I did. Now it might have been only a few minutes if you were travelling at ninety miles an hour in a Grimsby cab, if any of them could reach that speed, but it was a good thirty minutes walking in the freezing cold, I was also only wearing a suit, no coat, due to a lack of planning. The other problem was that the directions provided by the cabbie and Google maps failed to take into account that the street I needed to negotiate towards the end of my journey was not open to pedestrians. It’s a relatively new dual carriageway which has replaced an old railway line that used to run through the centre of town.
I eventually found where I thought the shop used to be but no luck, the address I had was also just a private house and when I rang the number given on the web site the person who answered had no idea who or what was Grimsby Electronics, strike one.
My next port of call was my birthplace in Welholme Road. I don’t remember the inside at all but my parents spoke fondly of it and I’ve always wanted to see it. I walked the short distance but there was no one in, I’m not sure how they would have taken my request to see the inside anyway but I had decided to try. The photo shows the house today, there’s no blue plaque on the wall – yet. So strike two and I walked towards my grandma’s old house, nothing really to see there but I had decided it was time for a warming toddy and there was pub nearby I went in occasionally in years gone by. needless to say the Ropemaker was boarded up and a for sale sign attached, strike three.
I walked towards the church where the funeral was taking place and popped into the Hope and Anchor, very friendly staff and a warming drink. I then had some lunch, it had to be fish, I know I’ll be shot for writing this but although Grimsby is famous as a fishing port I’m sure they sell all the best stock, or keep it for themselves, it was good but certainly not the best I’ve had.
And so to the funeral and St. Mary’s on the Sea, with my brother Stephen presiding. It was a lively affair with most people recanting tales of Monica’s humorous attitude towards life and the way she provided a great home, a real celebration of life rather than a sombre affair. I’ll try to die in the summer though, it was absolutely freezing at the graveside. Then to the wake where I met all my old relatives, I really will try to keep in touch at bit more. I was also given some old letters found in Monica’s effects, such as one from my grandma to her own gran, I’m looking forward to going through those.
So Grimsby’s changed in fifteen years, why would I expect it not to? – But I’m not really disappointed that I went back.
