"Robin Hood’s Bay is a pretty village of pantiled cottages tumbling down the steep hillside towards the North Sea. Its quaint cobbled pathways and…"

Read it all before? A million words have been written about Robin Hood’s Bay, all pretty much the same and all of them falling way short of capturing its real charm. Not because the writers are inadequate but because this tiny village has a truly unique way of getting into your soul and then making you believe that you’re the only person who feels that way about it.

As a young teenager in the early 1970s, my parents took me to Bay for the first time, having been told that it was a must-see place. At that time, the sea wall was under construction. We stood at the top of the bank and looked down on a dirty village, full of machinery and looking like a nightmare holiday destination. Nevertheless, having come a long way, it was only fair to walk down and see it close up. It didn’t look much better but somehow we felt compelled to stay. None of us could explain the hold that the village had on us but we all felt it. Thus began a lifetime of yearning to return and we did, as often as our lives would allow. Bay always felt more like home to me; more so than my real home town and the many other towns in which I have lived.

For those of you who can empathise with this, I’m obviously trying to preach to the converted. For those of you who have never been (and I can’t believe there are many of you out there), try it out. The chances are that it will become your place too.