Ooop North

So we went north to Yorkshire and, contrary to the old saying, it's not actually that grim up there.

In fact York is beautiful. It's full of old streets and lane ways (or ginnels if you speak northern) like the one up there. That's called the Shambles and it's in all the tourist brochures. I assumed that it would be the only quaint, wonky old street and the rest of the city would be a normal British high street with the same chain stores and plastic fronts. And empty, bankrupt shops. You know like all tourist bumf it only shows you the good bits and makes you assume that everything else is the same, kangaroos on the beach springs to mind.

However in York the whole city was like a Harry Potter set. I would not have been remotely surprised to come across a wand shop. I mean there are still all the usual chain stores but they all blend in. Even the McDonalds was discrete.

There's even an almost complete city wall with gates and everything. Sadly they don't close the gates at dusk to keep the chavs out so there was noticeable Tennants Extra consumption after dark. This is nothing unique to York, it's just the English disease. (I mean public drunkenness not private flagellation, the other English disease according to the French). I did go for a bit of a walk on the walls but it was so icy it was a bit unnerving, especially with the lack of safety railings. It seems historic buildings are immune from the British obsession with health and safety. I'm not sure that's a good thing when your four stories up on a slippery mediaeval monument.

York is also famous for its Minster. Which is a cathedral to you and me. It's big, it's cathedrally and it's £9 to get in. Seems a bit steep really for an organization based on the teachings of a man who preached poverty and modesty. They try to make it sound like a bargain by making the tickets valid for twelve months, which as a tourist is a complete waste of time. Though I did go back the next morning to get my money's worth.




I have to say I was expecting much more from the Minster. It only took about half an hour to get round and see everything, there aren't even any famous people buried here. Even Gloucester has a king and a prince. It was worth a visit to see how much the high Anglicans still wish they were Catholics. You can tell from the candles that they are itching to get out the smells and bells. There's even a chapel containing the Holy Sacrament. It's like that whole reformation thing was just a short term experiment.

We also had a day trip to Whitby. It's on the coast about an hour north of York. It's quite famous, mostly among Goths and weirdos, as the place that Dracula came ashore. Now you may think that Dracula was just a story, but to some parts of the population (see above) its very real. Sadly for the eyelinered and black coated people in town last week there was only disappointment as most of the tourist sites were shut, including the famous Abbey. This is as close as I could get:




It's very atmospheric, interesting and historic. Apparently. This is a recurrent problem with traveling in January, especially in January in seaside towns. You get there, all planned, and then everything is shut. It was the same at the Captain Cook museum. Yes, that one. The man who discovered (or managed to notice, depending on your politics) Australia came from a small seaside town in North Yorkshire. It's no wonder he headed to the tropics as it was bloody freezing in Whitby.

So annoyingly the two places I really wanted to see this trip were both inaccessible. But the third was open. I'm talking about chips. And fish. I had never been to a place with so many fish and chipperies. Both Whitby and York had dozens of them. I can sort of understand it in a fishing village, but was a bit surprised in York. There weren't even that many fat people waddling around. We went to Mr Chips. It was excellent and reasonably priced and included mushy peas. Perfection on a cold day.

Another pleasant surprise was the number of tea shops in Yorkshire. Not even tea "shoppes" aimed at the tourists, these were real local bakeries with cafés attached. We went to Botham's in Whitby and it was like being in an episode of one of those heart warming Sunday evening ITV dramas (I'm thinking Heartbeat) as everyone knew each other, they were all local and there were only white faces.

I don't think I've ever been to such a culturally homogenous place. Although I have to say after living in Australia you do notice how monocultural it is in a lot of places in the UK, especially outside the big cities. I'm not making any political comments on this, it's just an observation before the immigration nutters start up.

I'm glad to report that the final place I wanted to go was also open. It was the National Railway Museum and it's nowhere near as nerdy and trainspottery as you might think. It's also free to get in, although they do stand at the entry and tell you it's free but you can donate right now if you would like. Obviously I didn't succumb to this museum mugging, but I did put money in the box when I left as it was well worth a tenner. We were in there for three hours and still didn't see it all. Who knew trains were so interesting? Especially the royal carriages. The old ones were beautiful and opulent. The current one not so much. That's the problem with becoming queen in the 1950s, your fancy train comes with a lot of Formica. It was exotic at the time I guess.

It was odd to see the trains I always wanted for my Hornby set in real life, especially the Mallard.




The fastest steam train ever (apparently/possibly) at over 125 MPH. the trains we've got now don't go much faster than that, though they do require less shovelling. The other odd thing about the NRM was that, even though I've never been there before, I'd seen it on Blue Peter so many times as a kid that I was getting constant déjà vu. This happens a lot if you were a Blue Peter watcher: York Minster, Jorvik Centre, Whitby RNLI, Simon Groom's farm in Dethick, it's seems like you've been to them all.

Actually that's showing my age, you can age anyone in this country by the Blue Peter presenters they first remember. Mine is Lesley Judd and John Noakes, the lads on the tube the other week were reminiscing about Konnie Huq.

That made me feel very old.