Upside down, Upside down.

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Sorry for the lack of chronological order here guys, I intended to get this posted before the London blog but I have been very busy with essays so it’s a bit out of whack. Our weekend in York was two weeks before London, just so you know.

Meags, George and I had the opportunity to spend the weekend in York with George’s flatmate, Ali and her family. So taking advantage of this, we left Friday morning to the train station to start our day long journey north to the early medieval city of York. We dropped into Norwich on the way to the station picking up gifts for our host family and getting breakfast so by the time we caught the next bus, we had to wait for the 11:57 train.

We travelled to our next stop with a lovely Australian friend of George’s called Ruth and thus passed the hour and a half very pleasantly watching the green countryside rush past us whilst young teenage girls shrieked loudly and painted their fingernails and a baby fretted and cried whilst its mother worried over him. We left the train at Peterborough to catch our connecting train to York with twenty minutes to spare.

Waiting around the station, the time crept on with nothing happening. Passengers became restless and eventually after several mixed announcements we were all told to go to another platform to catch the train to Doncaster as the Peterborough line was down. So we rushed over platforms and wriggled our way onto the Doncaster train in an attempt to get out of the insidious cold that seems to seep its way into ones bones like water dripping slowly through rocks into a cave.

We waited on the Doncaster platform for around an hour in the bleary cold and more and more passengers crammed into the station as the Peterborough disruption had funnelled more passengers to this station then it could really manage. When the train finally came there were so many passengers needing to get onto the trains that it was akin to the TV ad with the Australian rugby team pushing Japanese passengers onto the Shinkansen. We jumped on, pushing into the doors when the passengers inside were yelling “No more can fit in!” We did and then some more. So our trip to York from Doncaster was filled with a silent camaraderie at our situation but also the complaints of one particular passenger who regaled us with stories of how pathetic the British rail network is. The rail network, along with the buses system, is all privatised here, leading to a system of inefficiency and at times incompetence. A privatised system is definitely not the option as the system here is worse then Cityrail. I entertained the passengers with the story of Uncle Peter and the Cityrail hat he got after a series of complaints. They were amused but slightly smug because if you complain here you get your fare back which can be a substantial amount of money.

We arrived in York in far better spirits then we had been in Doncaster and rushed to get our connecting train to Poppleton, the village we were staying about 10 miles out of York.

It was pouring rain when we arrived at our station and we waited in the station for Ali to come and pick us up. Boys were we glad to see her. We eventually got into Poppleton at about 5pm that night and were welcomed into Ali’s house we were dumped our bags in a real bedroom in a real house. We were acquainted with the family and with the dog Suzie and milled around until dinner. After dinner we headed down to the community centre to watch our first British pantomime “Sing a Song of Sixpence” by the Poppleton Methodist Drama Group with Ali’s mum, Sheila ,playing Squint, a bloodthirsty Gypsy and trainee Chamberlain. We had nearly front row seats for this wonderful spectacle and we laughed and booed and hissed and clapped and sang along for the next two hours despite nearly falling asleep from our long journey. After the panto, we headed over to the pub to have a chat and then home to bed for an amazingly solid sleep in a real bed.

In the morning we got ready, packed our lunches of homemade bread and orange cheddar cheese and headed out to Fountains Abbey, about 40 minutes drive away through the Yorkshire countryside. We drove through gorgeous villages and towns, the closest to the Abbey being Ripon which crossed a river and through which George the navigator nearly got us lost. Upon driving through the small village before the park we were presented with a stately gate behind which was a long straight driveway up the hill leading to a Victorian church. Turning down into the car park we saw a large man-made lake and we got out of the car with Suzie and put on our Wellingtons because of the mud from the previous days rain.

The grounds of Fountains Abbey are beautifully designed with the river manipulated into shapes and the grass closely clipped the ground. Statues and beautiful buildings are dotted around the grounds and it was whilst walking to the top of the hill surrounding the gardens that we could appreciate the size and the layout of the place. Suzie loved it and I felt rather jealous for a while that I wasn’t a dog. The walk took us on the edge of country fields and through beautiful woods with pheasants running through the trees. Because of the advent of spring being very close, Snowdrops cover the ground throughout most of England and here was no exception. At times the sun shone through the trees and illuminated these tiny flowers so that it looked like a beautiful white carpet and it was pleasantly surprising to think that these flowers are native rather then just an introduced species.

We headed down the hill towards the abbey with Suzie running back and forwards between us and our Wellingtons squishing in the thick mud. The ruins were stunning close up, broken by weather and time. We wandered through them, running up stairs, walking into old rooms and finding views that made the abbey look even more impressive. We were a little tuckered out after our walk so we sat down and had a great lunch of home made bread and thick slices of bright orange cheddar cheese. Wonderful.

Heading back to the car park Suzie went running all over the grass, still not having lost her energy and it was beautiful to look back at the abbey from by the riverside. After joining the National Trust so I can get into other old houses and parks for free we headed in a different direction over the Seven Bridges walk. The mud was thick and deep in parts and the bridges were made of a cobble stone, winding with the path over the deep, cold stream which Suzie felt compelled to run into. She must have had freezing legs. The walk was stunning and took us close to the river, through some woods and out between beautiful fields on a country lane. The sun was shining, we were out walking with the dog, the view over the valley was magnificent and we were walking in real English countryside! After passing a house that George said looked like the one from the cover of a Led Zeppelin album we wound our way down to the driveway up to the abbey, a wide avenue with deer on both sides and a beautiful church situated at the end to stunning effect. Tired, we collapsed in the car, taking off our muddy shoes and drove back quietly to Upper Poppleton.

We all cooked dinner that night, a vegetable lasagne which was Ali's speciality and washed, dried and fed we headed out into town to see York by night. With us were Mini and Caz, Ali’s friends who were expert at navigating us around their city which was helpful as it is a series of winding streets in concentric circles, a factor that makes it easy to get lost. A No Smoking law in pubs doesn’t come into effect until July the 1st here, a law which is a god send as the thick smoke makes any place at night completely anti social. You notice the effect on your lungs, your eyes, and the stink on your clothes; it is a real relief to get into a place that has non-smoking areas. After sitting in a quiet pub chatting for a while we headed over to a cocktail bar called the Evil Eye which we were told was very cool, which it was. The décor was a cross between Mexican and South East Asian, vibrant colours, rickety stairs, small pokey rooms with day beds and hanging lamps. The bar staff also thought they were very cool. But it ended up being a great place where we sat for another while until heading over to a pub the girls called their favourite where all their friends hang out. After being there for a long while and being stared at by creepy men we got tired and grumpy and agitated to go home back to Minis place.

On our walk back we passed the York county asylum which famously compelled Tuke to start his Quakers York Retreat because of the terrible conditions. It was a creepy place to be a night knowing the terrible actions that had occurred there with the archaic methods of physical and chemical restraint employed to control mentally ill patients. There was a lot of pain and misery inflicted there, something more vivid and closer to our time then anything the Romans or the Vikings had forced upon the city. We crawled into our beds on the very top floor attic of Minis house and soon were snoring away, exhausted by our huge day and ready for another one tomorrow.

Sunday was a morning of beautiful bright, clear sunshine and crispy air so after finally rousing ourselves from our beds and dragging George away from Minis guitar we walked into town to see the sights in the daylight. We started off at the tourist information and decided to walk over the road, across the battlements built by the Romans. The history in this place still astounds me; York was the most important city in England for a long time and was ravaged by the Vikings whose influence was more permanent then in other areas. We were all a bit tired from the day before and wandered over the walls hungry and quietly, past the huge Minster which struck an imposing mark on the city. Inside the Minster was incredible, the scale and the skill required by the builders is incredible as the ceiling reached into the sky and the windows stretched upwards. It was too expensive to go in for a real look but we stood in the front absorbing the entrance which was just as grand as the rest of the building and after closing our jaws, we left.

We went to get some breakfast and walked into the market centre, passing the famous Shambles streets and exploring the various squares and markets. Consulting our map we ducked down into the Roman baths below an old pub, but it was only a recreation of what would have been there and cost far too much so we abstained from entering beyond the door. The Shambles are a series of old restored streets with shops, cobbled, windy, poky, with buildings of thick dark old timber and quaint windows. We had been recommended by the locals (mainly Ali) to go to the Milkshake bar in the centre of town so being faithful to our guide we did just that. What an amazing experience it was with Malteser’s and Aero crunched into lovely creamy milk. No wonder people return back home fatter then when they got here.

The day was a bit of a haze as we wandered around in circles trying to figure out where we were but we ended up back at the Minster and walked into a College arts and craft fair held in a stunning old building which was the only reason we went in. After poking around there for a while we walked down to the riverside to find the York Dungeons. They also turned out to be a re-creation of ‘authenticity’ with creepy statues, fake blood, wooing noises and dripping walls. We decided to once again save ourselves the money and leave. Down by the river people were having lunch in the sunshine and warmth and so we decided to do the same.

Somehow we ended up at the Jorvic centre, a Viking recreation museum which everyone loved as a child. When asked what we did in York, everyone asked if we had been to the Jorvic centre, but it was set to be another setup of Ye Olde England so we had a look at the displays set out for Jorvic Viking week and headed back into town to find some grub. Finding the cheapest thing, a nice big hamburger, we sat contentedly in the slipping shadows and quietly ate our lunch whilst chatting about the history of the place and the people. We decided then to find the train station and meet Ali for our journey back after looking round in some old record stores. We walked through the old streets at a time when the sky was turning beautiful colours, the sun casting shadows over the buildings and the river. When we got closer to the station, the imposing city walls were framed by the setting sun and daffodils were opening underneath the trees, making the scene very English.

The train ended up being very full and we sat on the floor to relieve our tired feet after such a big weekend of walking. I resolved to get more comfortable shoes and we all resolved that we had had a wonderful weekend. Thankfully at the train station in Norwich we got a taxi home and whilst driving past the castle in the city and through the various streets it struck me that this is home, that Norwich has become somewhere comfortable and friendly. It had been a wonderful weekend, especially since we had all hit a little low spot and needed to get out of the city and off the campus to expand our horizons. Yet it was a nice feeling, heading back with my friends who make this a home, knowing that I had somewhere comfortable to rest my feet and to start my week.

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Photos

The York Minster with Constantine
Constantine was proclaimed Roman Emperor close to this spot heralding the spread of Christianity throughout the empire.

A haunted old Pub where Ali works
Meags (very sensible and scientific), who doesn't go in for any of that supernatural nonsense took a photo in here and swears there is a person possessed by a ghost sitting in the back corner. I don't want to know.

Comments

[Grahame]

Feast or a famine
Uncle Peter lost his "cap" in the story. :-) Enjoyable tale Em. What sort of shoes did you wear? Maybe all of this unaccustomed walking is the problem and not your shoes. Were these blog entries assignment procrastination? :-) love Dad

[Bianca]

Have you thought about venturing into travel writing when you graduate? I almost feel like I'm there with you! What an amazing trip, I'm still very jealous - B