Wherry Inn, Langley Street

My grandfather (1890-1983) drank at The Wherry all his life, until he could no longer cycle the mile or so to and from his home past the school in Langley Street. I drank many bitter lemons sitting in the porch with my sister sharing a packet of Smiths potato crisps. The landlord had a fine jar of home made pickled eggs on the bar - nice and brown, pickled in malt vinegar. We spent every summer here during my childhood in the mid 50's to late 60's. My father would fish in the staithe or in the river.