Part I: Seals teeth and whales ears - Scott Polar Research Institute ...

highlights of the holiday was always a treasure hunt, in later years usually organized by
brother Peter. This led us on a roundabout route through the nearby country, the village
and the harbour, with clues that seemed difficult at the time, hidden in places like a
hollowed-out loaf of bread in a fisherman's boat. Looking back my memories are of
universal fine weather, warm seas and idyllic days in the sun. In the evenings we
would have house games like charades, sardines and murder, and of course there was
always chess, draughts, cards and monopoly. Radio and television weren't on offer.
My favourite place for holidays was Beadnell, a very small fishing village with long
sandy beaches and a small harbour built from sandstone blocks and backed by old lime
kilns. We usually travelled by bus, via Newcastle, and Alnmouth, but sometimes by
train via Newcastle and up the main line to Chathill Junction, where we were met by a
local taxi for the last leg. Once arrived there was always something for small boys to do
and the kindly local fishermen were always willing to spin tales. Initially we stayed in a
boarding house called ‘Alexandra House’; my recollection is that it was a wooden-clad
frame building. Later we stayed in a more solid and comfortable hotel – ‘The Towers’
which had gardens and a tennis court. Just around the corner was the pokey little village
shop, a storehouse with all kinds of treasures and 'goodies' on which we could spend
our pocket money. The village stood just off a main road and a path led over springy
sea-turf, across the fields, with - excitingly - the occasional 'bull, which may well have
been a cow or a heifer for all I know. It gave an adventurous feel and we were careful
not to wear anything red, so as not to anger it and be attacked! Life was full of
perceived adventure and drama. Beyond the fields was a low line of sand dunes, held
together with murram grass, the needle points of which are painful for tender feet, and
then the beach. It was extensive and stretched southwards from the harbour for several
miles of perfect silver sand. We could walk down to the south end and risk quicksands
(an exciting prospect which never transpired) to visit a small suspension bridge, which
was the limit of our territory. Once or twice we stayed in Seahouses, a rather larger
village, with a bigger harbour, where we inspected the boats daily and asked the
fishermen for fish, usually saithe (coalfish) which we took away to cook for supper.
Seahouses had a view of the Farne Islands and Bamborough Castle was not far away.
Both Seahouses and Beadnell had rocky stretches of coast where, at low tide we used to
go looking for cowrie shells, sea urchins, crabs and fish, and wonder over the colourful
sea anemones.
When we arrived at the beginning of the holiday we erected the family tent on the
beach and it was occupied just about every day, though we did make some excursions. I
remember visiting Berwick by bus one day and walking round the walls. My saved-up
pocket money was spent that day to buy a whistle made from the tip of a stag's antler;
another time I bought a sheath knife with a stag's horn handle. Another day I remember
was going to Fallodon, the seat of Earl Grey; it was an estate with extensive woodland
and was managed for wildlife, notably wildfowl. The colourful ducks impressed; it was
there that I first recall seeing Carolina wood drakes and mandarins. Later, one of the
first books I bought was a biography of "Earl Grey of Fallodon". We visited other
Northumbrian towns and villages in the region, like Alnmouth, Craster (still known for
its delicious kippers), and occasionally travelled inland to Rothbury, Morpeth, Alnwick,
Wooller and the Cheviot and Eldon Hills.
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