…they slept. A quick forty winks turns into deep sleep until 12.30. We trundle over to the showers and luxuriate in the warm water washing away the inevitable salt and general grubbiness of a long overnight passage. Having made ourselves almost respectable we spent a happy hour or so in the club bar. The marina in Grimsby is run by the (mostly) volunteers of the Humber Cruising Association and they have to be one of the most friendly and welcoming we have met and provide some cheap beer to boot. They are making a real go of creating a great destination for cruisers and certainly deserve some real support from the local council, to help develop the infrastructure around them.
We all have very mixed feelings as we walk around the old port. Once the greatest fish dock in the world, the market now deals in frozen fish brought in overland by lorry. Even the once massive rail-head is now decayed and derelict.
The people in the bar clearly are of the opinion that their demise is due to unfair quotas and the French and Spanish not obeying EU rules, while we did and died as a result. This was not the time or place to discuss politics or the overfishing (by us mostly) of the North Sea stocks in the fifties and sixties. Was our very efficient and huge fleet sailing out of Grimsby in its hay day the master of its own eventual decline? Sitting in a decaying dock it is certainly very tempting to seek scapegoats in the form of remote folk in French or Spanish trawlers or even in Brussels, but that does not absolve us from our own actions in the past however uncomfortable that thought is.
To lighten the mood we had a late lunch in the cockpit under a gloriously sunny sky, treating ourselves to the crab washed down with a bottle of Cava. Life for us is looking good and we genuinely feel very lucky to be able to see more of our country including places we would not otherwise have thought of as holiday destinations.