The Grimsby Escape and Top Secret Party

Scarborough on Hold: The Grimsby Escape and a Top-Secret Party Mission!

Scarborough, our next maritime conquest, had been abruptly put on ice! A last-minute, utterly irresistible invitation had landed in our laps – a party we always attend, but tragically missed last year. There was no way we were letting this one slip through our fingers if humanly possible.

It all began innocently enough. Our friend Julie, catching wind of our latest blog post, messaged us: "Where in the world are you two?" A flurry of WhatsApp messages later, the audacious invitation arrived. She knew it was a long shot, a near impossibility. After our epic Lowestoft-to-Grimsby passage, all we truly craved was to "down tools" – or, more accurately, "drop sails" – for a few blissful days. The mere thought of orchestrating a train journey back to Peterborough, with Pepper in tow, felt like a monumental challenge. We debated, we pondered, but honestly, neither of us possessed the mental fortitude to make any big decisions. We simply carried on, walking Pepper (when absolutely necessary) and gingerly beginning to explore our new locale.

"Gingerly" being the operative word. Stepping out of the marina gate, we were plunged into a scene of stark desolation: derelict buildings, parched verges, and a disturbing carpet of broken glass and refuse, even the grim sight of dead seagull carcasses. This was not the picturesque welcome we'd hoped for. Grimsby, once a titan among the world's fishing ports, had visibly, heartbreakingly deteriorated. A fellow sailor's vlog had hinted at a park nearby, a supposed haven for Pepper to stretch her legs, so we decided to brave the walk into the nearest township. For Tracey, whose anxiety sometimes flares in unfamiliar environments, this expedition was terrifying. The "high street," as it was optimistically called, ran perilously close to a thundering dual carriageway. The roar of boy racers, their souped-up exhausts spewing noise, spooked Pepper, sending shivers down our own spines. We trudged on, provisions being a non-negotiable, and Aldi, conveniently opposite the promised park, was our target. The entire experience felt deeply unsettling.

It was amidst this rather bleak landscape that the conversation turned serious: do we push further north, or do we bin the sailing for a bit and make a dash back to Peterborough? After acquiring our groceries and allowing Pepper a much-needed frolic in the park, we returned to the marina. The clubhouse was open, and with the sun still shining, a drink felt mandatory. Alas, this was the second time Pepper was denied entry, but a spacious veranda, protected by a high glass windbreak, offered a perfect alternative. We sat outside, soaking up the last rays of the day, our spirits slowly mending. The club members, incredibly friendly and apologetic about the dog rule, popped out frequently to chat. And it was then, under the golden glow of the setting sun, that the decision solidified: Peterborough, here we come!

Just then, our friend Tareena called, wondering about our next destination, hoping to pinpoint a future meeting point further north. She mentioned she was going to the party. A mischievous glint appeared in Tracey's eye. Julie's last message echoed in her mind: "If you can make it, make it a surprise for everyone, especially me!" We kept our lips sealed.

Back on the boat, Nick began to conjure dinner while Tracey, a woman on a mission, re-checked train times. Yes! It was doable!

The next morning, bags packed with military precision, we set off for Grimsby Docks station, aiming for the 13:00 train. A kind gentleman offered us a lift as we left the marina – a gesture we politely declined, proud of our trusty shopping trolley and the not-too-distant walk. Oh, how we instantly regretted that decision. Upon arrival at the station, a stark message glared at us: TRAIN CANCELLED.

A cold dread settled in. We had a mere 45 minutes to get to Grimsby Town station, a feat that would be a breeze for anyone who actually knew where they were going. Tracey, remembering a taxi firm office from our walk, dragged us back. "A cab," she gasped, "and it must take dogs!" The struggle was real. Many drivers, it seemed, viewed our adorable pooch as a canine contaminant. Rude! Finally, a hero cabbie arrived, whisking us away to the main station. It was only then, as the familiar bustle of shops and people surrounded us, that we realised where we'd walked yesterday hadn't been "town" at all. We were in the real town!

Tickets purchased, we hurried over the bridge to the other platform, a mere ten-minute wait until our train arrived. Our destination: back to Teresa and Martin's, Tracey's sister and brother-in-law. They were going away for the weekend, and in exchange for their hospitality, we'd gladly agreed to look after their dog, Toby. A win-win! Martin met us at Whittlesey station. Not only was the shopping trolley bursting at the seams, but we also had a large holdall overflowing with dirty laundry. Teresa's washing machine was about to get another serious workout!

Friday was a blur of land-based logistics. Tracey’s Mum, Kathy, had popped over and all of us jumped to tidy the house as Teresa received a last-minute call for a property viewing. Once Teresa and Martin were waved off on their weekend escape, Tracey jumped in the car and headed to Hampton for a crucial gift and food shop. This was a high-risk manoeuvre; the possibility of bumping into someone she knew was considerable. And lo and behold, there was Tareena, sitting outside with her dogs while her partner Darren ran errands. The dilemma: hide, or risk the surprise? Tracey, ever the daredevil, chose the latter. Tareena's jaw nearly hit the pavement! She hadn't suspected a thing after their phone call. Tracey swore her to absolute secrecy, and after a quick, excited catch-up, they parted ways until the grand reveal at the party.

That evening, after a delicious dinner and a few competitive rounds of cards, we indulged in a cheeky hour in the hot tub, the bubbling warmth washing away the week's stresses. Sleep came easily, filled with the buzzing anticipation of the next day.

Saturday dawned, the air thick with excitement. The party kicked off at 2 pm. After getting ourselves sorted and giving the dogs a proper long walk, it was showtime. A cab was called. We decided to video our entrance, hoping to capture the pure shock on our friends' faces. Nick, ever the strategist, suggested Tracey run in first, shouting "SURPRISE!" The moment was glorious. A cascade of shrieks and squeals, followed by a torrent of hugs – the reunion had begun! The birthday girl was genuinely thrilled we'd made it, and so were we. This group of friends, the "glue" that keeps us all connected (thanks to Julie and Matt's incredible efforts!), is truly special. We usually only see them once or twice a year, and Julie's party is the magnetic force that draws us all together. Matt had laid on a truly fabulous spread, far more food than could possibly be consumed – they are, without a doubt, fantastic hosts. After regaling tales of our recent maritime adventures, indulging in far too many sausages, and dancing around the garden like carefree teenagers, it was time to bid our bittersweet farewells. What an event! It's always incredibly humbling how, despite the distance and the years, this cherished group of friends makes us feel so utterly welcome, as if no time has passed at all. We are truly blessed to have such wonderful friendships.

The Case of the Missing Garden Ornament:

During the evening, Nick vanished. This isn't uncommon; we're both social butterflies, flitting between conversations. However, a little while later, Lisa cornered Tracey, pulling her aside conspiratorially. "I've put something in your bag," she whispered. Tracey, momentarily perplexed, glanced down. "I haven't taken a bag with me," she mumbled. Lisa's eyes twinkled with mischief as she clarified. In the bag that contained our drinks, a new resident now resided: a garden gnome. Once again, Nick and Lisa, partners in playful crime, had been up to their mischievous tricks, "borrowing" and "relocating" one of Matt and Julie's beloved gnomes. The audacious plan? For us to smuggle the gnome onto Halcyon Sea, take photos of its adventures, and nonchalantly post them to our blog until Julie or Matt finally recognized their missing garden dweller. It seemed hilariously funny at the time, a stroke of genius in the warm glow of friendship and a few celebratory drinks.

Gnome Alone: A Captain's Dilemma

As for the gnome… in the cold, harsh light of day, Tracey’s laughter turned to a slight frown. Not only did we face the Herculean task of transporting this surprisingly heavy garden ornament back to the boat via train, but to truly execute Nick and Lisa’s naughty plan, we'd have to keep it safe throughout its maritime escapades. This was one risk Tracey, the ever-practical co-captain, was simply not prepared to take. While we do have photographic evidence of the gnome's brief foray into our lives (proof of Nick and Lisa's cunning!), it has since found a much safer harbor. It's now residing comfortably at Teresa and Martin's house, in secure storage, awaiting either collection or a direct return to its rightful garden.

So, Julie, if you're reading this, apologies! Your gnome's world tour might be slightly curtailed, but rest assured, it's living its best (and safest) life, probably enjoying miniature cups of tea by the fireplace. We promise, it's in better hands than ours—we're too busy trying not to run aground!

A couple more blissfully relaxing days followed, before it was time to catch the train back to Grimsby. The weather forecast for our trip to Scarborough isn't looking particularly inviting until Saturday, so it seems we're embracing a few more days here. Time to get the polishers out, give the cockpit a good shine, and freshen up Halcyon Sea. The land adventures were epic, but the call of the sea, and the next port, is getting louder!もっと詳しく