On that particular day, crowds were gathering under grey skies two hundred and fifty miles away to the south of us in London, hoping to catch a glimpse of Britain's balding prince as he married his paper plates heiress.
Meanwhile in Whitby, it seemed people were more interested in enjoying the sunshine and sea breezes instead of gawping at the antics of the 'wisteria sisters' (
highly decorative, terribly fragrant, with a ferocious ability to climb as one newspaper put it).
We spotted one barbecue in action and our hostess at the B&B was ensconced in front of the telly when we buzzed, but there was a decided lack of spontaneous celebration in the streets.
Having said that, some kids had scratched tributes into the sand on the beach.
At the time, details of the honeymoon plans after the royal nuptials were still top secret and we wondered if maybe they would do austerity Britain proud by having a 'stay-cation'? Despite what the sign in the window said, there seemed to be an empty room downstairs here at the Captains Lodge...
but we weren't holding our breath.
On that particular day, crowds were gathering under grey skies two hundred and fifty miles away to the south of us in London, hoping to catch a glimpse of Britain's balding prince as he married his paper plates heiress.
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