Today I woke for the last time in my snug little cocoon at the top of my cottage. Looking out the window the lawn was white. Snow? No, frost, and a good one! Cars were iced, so it was out with the warm water.
We had carefully planned our route north, tossing up between the M1 (fast, but boring) and the smaller roads - slower but lots to see. The weather forecast of high winds and storms decided us to take the M1 and get to York as quickly as we could, leaving lots of time for breaks if necessary. Paul's brilliant Ipad that he swears by mapped a 4 1/2 hour journey, my effort was just over 2 hours - we took mine.
We set off in high spirits. I was happy to navigate using Paul's wonder toy on request. It really is helpful - although it's usefulness was called into question when in the middle of a HUGE roundabout it suddenly turned England upside down, we were heading down instead of up and seemed to be going to London followed by Brussels.
So the Ipad was thrown in the back (it was lucky the window was shut), and I reverted to my good old giant map.
All went well, we made excellent time, and decided about 20 minutes out of York to stop for a hearty lunch at the Coach and Horses Inn in Tadcaster. I went for a salmon and warm salad and felt virtuous in my healthiness. Paul had a steak pie and chips. As is usual for me, his looked fantastic, mine looked barely edible. I had brown/black diced bits - mushrooms? Croutons? I ate a few, they were tasty. when the waiter came back I asked what they were - to my horror he said 'black pudding'. I asked what was in black pudding, 'pig blood, and other pig bits left over after chopping it up.' Oh my goodness, I felt sick.
After lunch we went for a walk to explore (and walk off the effects of feeling revolted). It seems normal now to come across a most gorgeous church in the middle of every little village. I happily snapped away - what am I going to do with 1000's of photos of old English churches?
Back in the car and off on our final leg into York. Now, York is England oldest town, so has very narrow roads, cobbled lanes, stone arches going over them, just beautiful. Between 10am and 5.30pm they are mostly closed to traffic. Fortunately our kind host had emailed me detailed directions of how to get to our parking spot, about a kilometre from our apartment, which is right in the middle of York and next to the Minster.
No problems - we had packed for this last night, and were for once sharing a bag, while the remainder of our luggage would stay in the boot out of sight.
After trundling our bag to the apartment and feeling like orienteering experts winning a race, we arrived at our new temporary home, down a cobbled lane amid medieval shops and houses.
After 10 minutes of getting settled we realised Paul had left his Ipad on the car seat in full view - I'm not taking responsibility for this as it's a stupid invention anyway.
Well, it was coats, hats, gloves, scarves on again and back to the car where the Ipad was still resting smugly. Back to the apartment for a well deserved glass of wine. But - I suddenly couldn't find our stash of English cash. I had it in a ASB bag, and each day we topped up our wallets with the day's budget. So it held the next month's finances. I searched all through the clothes and bits and bobs in the apartment - no cash. I panicked, told Paul, apologised, and yet again we donned hats, gloves, scarves and coats and set off to the car. We systematically went through our other bags, no joy. I felt sick - worse even than the black pudding. I had visions of trying to organise funds for the next month and then paying it back over the next year. In desperation we rang the owner of the cottage we had left this morning to see if the cleaner had found it, she said she would check and get back to us. We walked back to the apartment, I was devastated. How do I not let this ruin our holiday? All the money for our Christmas week with the kids, I felt like such a failure. Paul was such a honey.
Back at the apartment I went to the bathroom and started to unpack my spongebag - and wouldn't you know it, guess what was in the bottom? I have no recollection of putting money under my deodorant, what's with that? I burst into tears, Paul gave me a big cuddle, and we set off to Evensong at the huge Minster next door (yes, donning hats, gloves, scarves etc etc....).
What an experience! It was all choir singing and responses, no organ. So contemplative, I loved it. Will definitely go again while we're here.
Home for a glass of wine and a light tea of grapes, cheese, carrot and celery sticks. Would have been more but we left the rest of our food in the fridge at the last cottage......
Just as we were sitting down for tea our landlord arrived to say hullo and welcome. Nice to hear some history of York and the Minster. He is a professor of French and German, so lots in common (I can swear in both those languages).
We are now sitting back with our last glass of wine for the night watching the British Proms.
Cheers!
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