The seaside is more than sea and sand and lobster pots. The seaside is rock and ice cream and games of bingo in neon-lit halls - all to the accompaniment of coin-dropping fruit machines. This was Bridlington back in the 1970s. It still is, fifty years later.
The sands of the Yorkshire beaches are punctuated with stout wooden breakwaters. Designed to break the backs of the raw North Sea waves, they also provide somewhere to sit down, and - occasionally - provide shade from the sun.
This is one of my pictures from the 1960s of the old fishing harbour at Bridlington. The Sailor's Bethel was a non-conformist church catering for the welfare and spiritual needs of fishermen and sailors. The building is still there but is now known by the less picturesque name of The Harbourside Evangelical Church.
Spring came yesterday. It has gone away again today, but that one oblique glance at the sun was enough to make me want to go to the seaside. So a new mini-series of scans from my old negatives starts with the seaside at its bracing best - Skegness. This photograph was taken a couple of years after the great storm of January 1978 cut the pier into three bits.
A few years ago I suggested a name for a new beer which was being brewed by Huddersfield's Milltown Brewing Company. The theme for their beers was the old Yorkshire textile industry and the name was based on my father's first job in the mill - a bobbin ligger (someone who would fetch and carry empty yarn bobbins). I designed the beer pump display and incorporated a picture of my mother when she worked in the mill. This provided the unmissable experience of being able to walk into my local pub and ask for "a pint of my mam, please".
The Black Friar in Queen Victoria Street, London is one of my favourite pubs. Back in days long gone by, I used to take groups of overseas visitors there as part of a tour of old London pubs. It is not only a fine pub, it is a work of art - tiled throughout in the style of the arts and crafts movement. Outside, there are delightful signs pointing you to the various bars. If you ever find yourself in London, visit it - you will not be disappointed.
I have just realised that I have got to number eight in this ten part series on pubs and all I have shown is buildings. Buildings in themselves - whatever their architectural merit, however much their timbers have absorbed centuries of malt and hops - are not pubs. Pubs need people - drinking, talking, laughing, enjoying life. I took this photograph in the 1980s whilst on a trip to London with a group of trade union students from Doncaster. I can still feel the glow of their friendship thirty years later.
There has been a pub next to the Anchor Bridge over the Calder and Hebble Navigation in Brighouse ever since the canal was constructed in the 1750s. For most of that time, the pub was quite reasonably called the Anchor Inn, but for some reason it was decided that it needed a new name for the twenty-first century and it was rechristened The Bridge. The current building dates back just over one hundred years and is the third on the site : the original 1750s pub was rebuilt first of all in 1859. The Anchor has a long association with music : in the early years of the twentieth century the police tried to close it down because it was guilty of "habitually employing professional female musicians". I remember the pub best in the 1970s when Rod Marshall was the Landlord. He was a gifted jazz musician himself and succeeded in attracting a host of local - and in some cases - international jazz musicians to play at the pub. And, if the police would care to take note, I recall that a number of them were women!