Notes from Whitby: Extracts from a Journal (in the style of Jonathan Harker) by Thomas, a Loreto A Level English Language & Literature student
11th Feb – Left Manchester at 9:20 A.M. Classmates appear slightly spritely. We’re teenagers, and this is a Wednesday morning, so for excitement levels, this is about the best you’re really going to get. At least it means no one will try to start performing an impromptu karaoke session of Wheels on the Bus. Some childish joy needs to be ground down for our own sanity, I suppose. Together we venture to explore exotic lands. Cradled by the ominous North Yorkshire Moors, the town of Whitby.
Our hostel is in a prime position, right next door to the fantastically melodramatic Whitby Abbey, where the Dracula scenes are set. You can immediately see why this was chosen to be the place Dracula invaded. No building here is satisfied with similarity. They all present themselves to the coast in their unique Victorian style. In the evenings, when the sweets shops and chippies close for the night, you’re only stopped from being pulled into the mystery of a Victorian night by a few flickering streetlamps and a WhatsApp group chat that refuses to be quiet and that you’re forced to mute for the night to allow the immersion to set in. It’s a dry late winter evening following the rain of a short afternoon, you’re with three or four friends facing the coast breathless after climbing the 199 steps, and you’re completely disconnected both physically and emotionally from society. If there is one thing you can never accuse the Victorians of, it’s being functional.
As the museum closed for the evening, we retreated to dinner, and knowing Whitby, it had to be a chippy. We found a place in the form of a sparkling, TripAdvisor darling just off the main road at the end of a cul-de-sac called Late-Stage Capitalism. A regular cod and chips was 20 quid. Part of me thinks that the crew of light, like the oblivious wealthy professionals they are, would have simply absorbed the financial repercussions without a fuss and enjoyed their deep-fried snacks in bliss whilst filing tonight’s evidence, but alas, in this modern world, the real evil we have to fight is overdrafts, so that wasn’t happening. I headed to Wendy’s. I tried a frosty for the first time in my life. Heaven. I later discovered that there are three Wendy’s locations in my preferred university, Hull. Delirium.
12th Feb – We departed from the hostel early after breakfast, heading over to the abbey next door. In fact, we arrived slightly before opening time and so English Heritage punished us by subjecting us to a recreation of the storm from Dracula before finally bringing us into the refuge of the gift shop once they’d decided we’d had enough punishment. English Heritage clearly knew the value of this place – they took this gift shop seriously. The display table was littered with all of the editions of Dracula you could ever need, tempting students and teachers alike. There were well designed shirts, art supplies, a sword for some reason. This was top-quality bric-a-brac.
The abbey itself was predictably magnificent. The inside gallery featured among other items a first copy of Dracula in the original lurid yellow cover, signed by Stoker. Outside, the structure lies in ruin, torn down by Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries. Its spiteful destruction actually seems to enhance its beauty.
NOTE – Thank you so much on behalf of the group to everyone involved in making this trip possible, and to Mrs Dutson and Mrs Joseph for allowing me to write such a ridiculous summary of this trip.