Cod Almighty | Diary

From Here You Can Almost See The Sea

25 June 2025

VFTF diary has a question. A serious question. Is there a better place to sit and have a pint in Cleethorpes than the window seats of The Kings Royal or Mucky Muldoons?

Think about it for a moment.

The quiet, the solace, the privacy of the booths. A perfectly framed picture-postcard view. The creaking wood under foot. The "Lovely day for a Guinness" prints.

As someone who has lived in Cleethorpes previously and since moved away, I find myself thinking about those seats and that view a lot. Probably too much. So why does the experience enthral me so much and warrant me writing 500 words about it?

Well, mainly, the view. It's captivating and different every time. But also refreshingly always the same. The horizontal lines of the road, the stone wall and the horizon never change. The ornate bus shelters. Bright sunshine and the biggest of blue skies. On a clear day you can see the windfarms, Spurn Point, the beach and kites catching the breeze. Ships pass by, the world passes by. The intrigue of it all. From here you can almost see the sea (because as my wife from Hull always points out, "it's not the sea, it's the estuary").

Of an evening the sky turns pink and orange as the sun sets behind the pier and the colourful festoon lights strung from lampposts across the way add a sparkle and charm whilst guiding dog walkers on their path. Other days there is sideways rain and wind, umbrellas forcing their owners backwards, a bleak and blurry vista. But even then the reflection of the lights from inside serve to warm the soul. We shuffle in the wooden-pew-style chairs with their tall backs and drink casque ales.

And sure, occasionally smokers stand in front of the window and block the view a little. And in summer couples sit on plastic chairs and the wall, drinking their pints and filling their ashtrays. But even that allows you to people watch for a time.

In our late teens and early 20s we used to start our nights out in KR or Muckys. Moving on to Willys and the Notts. And then inevitably you'd pay your money and take your chance down the High Steet, but at least you always knew what you were getting from 'this end'. I'd genuinely be upset if the window seats were taken and I still am to this day. Hovering near by, looking on jealously, counting the empty glasses.

Over the years there have been other contenders but they all fall by the wayside eventually. Or, inevitably, close. Don't they?

I admit I'm a man of simple pleasures. But that vantage point always acts as a nostalgic reminder of yesteryear, a reference point, a safe-haven in my mind. Its calmness, its tranquility; if I'm back there it means everything is right in the world and there are few places that make me happier.

So win, lose or draw this season, you'll know where to find me. It's always a lovely day for a Guinness.