I doubt this event will earn a dedicated post for another four years, but this time around my wedding anniversary is a bit special.

To start off, our niece born on the day of the wedding, is 16. But also, as you can see in the tweet, we’re heading back to the scene of the crime (as it were) for the first time since we left Pinchinthope Hall on the morning of September 25th. I was horribly hungover, I should add – Ceri doesn’t get hangovers – and the place was bizarrely abandoned as we departed.

And curiously, that’s how the place stayed, not just to us, but in the public consciousness, as Pinchinthorpe Hall spent most of the next decade closing and reopening and closing again, following the 2008 financial crash.

More recently, however, it has been purchased by the owners of The Stables at Cross Butts just outside Whitby. This is a restaurant of considerable local repute, so it’s exciting to see what they have done with Pinchinthorpe.

Pinchun to de Thorpe

Commanding spectacular backdrops of Roseberry Topping, Pinchinthorpe Hall was established almost a 1000 years ago although the current build dates to the 17th century. It is a truly stunning location, apparently named after the first family to live there, Pinchun, and their successors, the de Thorpes.

The history is quite interesting, not least because at some point the property was moated. Several of the buildings have Grade II listed status.

No Church?

We were joined in matrimony there by the local registrar from Guisborough, back in the days when getting married other than a registry office or church was a bit “Hollywood.”

Looking at the photos in the video above brings back all the usual memories, but there is much that it doesn’t reveal. As well as the traditional wedding breakfast, we had an outdoor BBQ on the evening, although it came in cold swiftly and a good portion of evening guests didn’t stay out long, preferring the disco and rustic bar.

And then, sadly, are the people who didn’t come, who should have been in the photos, but weren’t. We’d invited my grandma’s brother, Uncle Jack, but he was too unwell to travel. Similarly, my dad’s sister Sheila was unable to attend.

(A few days later we travelled to Crete for our honeymoon, but that is a totally different story for a later blog.)

We were widely attended by family and friends that day, however, some seen only occasionally, others daily faces. And we were both well serviced by the chief bridesmaid (my sister Justine) and the best man (my school friend Richard Rae).

I just wish I’d gone to bed earlier the night before.