I’ve spent a few hours and several quid

On coffee and sweetmeats at this place in Brid

But apparently footfall and takings have slid

So I’m saddened to hear of it folding –

That Bridlington icon called Goldings.

 

I patronised Goldings for year after year

And always I opted for large cafetieres

Colombian? Kenyan? I didn’t really care

Though connoiseurs knew which was which

Both so aromatically rich.

 

To get best infusion I constantly stirred

Then set the plunger with strength now assured

It usually helped down a large Yorkshire Curd

And disregarding my health

I managed one all to myself.

 

The décor was retro – the 60’s the theme

With posters of Hendrix, The Yardbirds and Cream,

Of Brando and Bowie, of Che and James Dean;

So seduced by the Chesterfield suite

You made sure you got a good seat.

 

The place has been stitched in my history but

I turned up this week to find it was shut

A treasured Old Lady usurped by a slut

As Starbucks’s whorehouse was holding

Transactions once done by Goldings.