At least we got the threepenny bit back

​An atmospheric day in Scarborough today, due I suppose to what some may describe as a sea fret. This means that half a mile inland it may be bright and sunny but down in the old town a chilly mist clings to the castle hill, and the foghorn in a repetitious and unrequited love call vibrates the moisture with its middle C trumpet. Of course anyone worth their salt out at sea these days will have GPS so I guess the foghorn serves more to remind day trippers that even without sunshine the seaside is a romantic place to be. So, even minus the sunshine it was a great day to walk up to the art gallery to listen to a talk on the obscure, forgotten French artist Rodolphe Bresdin delivered by his first biographer Trevor Dance. An engraver and etcher in the 19th century, the reclusive and itinerant Bresdin should qualify for some sort of pre-van Gogh ‘artist living in penury’ award. The Friends of Scarborough Art Gallery which put on the talk are to be congratulated for putting on this kind of event. But I worry. I’m mid-sixties and I felt like I was on the younger end of the spectrum in the audience. It sometimes feels the same at classical music concerts. I could go into a rant, but I will resist the temptation. Bring back rationing. Bring back national service. Bring back the empire. Bring back beer at 1/6 a pint. Meanwhile, the foghorn maintains its unrequited love affair with – the past.