York Cathedral impressive as it is, is even more so, because in 1317, a relative of mine, one William of Melton, (Melton being my maiden name) was made the archbishop of York. I instantly felt a connection to the place after seeing his name up on the wall.
York itself is a beautiful town full of lots of old Tudor buildings that lean at crazy angles to each other. There are town walls, great little cobbled lanes and a cafe called Betty's, which is an institution renowned for morning and afternoon teas.
The week before we arrived the Ouse River had broken its banks and the footpaths alongside the river were covered in mud. However that hadn't deterred the crowds and the place was bustling. I thought England was doing it tough, that's not the impression you get when you see the massive number of shoppers crowding the narrow streets. Remembering my 'no shopping' promise a few weeks back I tried to restrict myself just to window shopping. It will remain a secret as to whether my promise with the almighty was kept.
We stayed in a very comfortable little flat just outside the town walls. Walking to town was easy and a great way to see the sights.
During the week we were lucky enough to get 3 days of brilliant blue skies and fine weather. Unbelievable! For weeks the sky had been either grey or white, so it was a rare treat and not to be wasted.
We drove up over the Yorkshire moors to Whitby. A seaside town, birthplace of Captain Cook, Steve Hennell and it also has an historic abbey. I loved Whitby, it was so picturesque and had an impressive cliff top walk which loomed above a massive drop to the rocks below.
Recently we had heard of a similar place in England where the cliffside had fallen away leaving homes dangling perilously close to the edge. I was tempted to walk along with one hand on the fence, only problem it was electrified!
On the way home we saw a fabulous sunset over the moors, a fitting end to a perfect day.
It was with regret that we left our comfortable little flat and turned the Fiesta south towards Melton Mowbray. No relatives to be found here only pork pies, pork pies in all shapes, sizes and combinations. I tried the one with apple and Chris went for the traditional, all I can say is that they're trouble, if you're watching your waistline.
Bury St Edmunds was the next stop on the family history trail. My great grandad had left here as a boy in 1852. The family were headed for Adelaide but missed the boat and ended up in Brisbane. They were assured that Adelaide was only a day's walk from Brisbane, especially if you started early and had a hearty breakfast! Suffice to say they never did make it to Adelaide.
I'm not sure of the reasons why the family decided to emigrate, though one could have a guess that times weren't too good back then. Today Bury St Edmund is a very nice, gracious town, boasting of one of the smallest pubs in England, the Nutshell and the beautiful Abbey Gardens.
We had a drink in the Nutshell and it was standing room only with 10 people, I'm told the record was 124 plus a Jack Russell. It's very quaint inside with loads of memorabilia on the walls and money plastered over the ceiling as well as a dead cat and a rat hanging down. There are times when poor eyesight is a real advantage.
The abbey gardens contain the ruins of a 10 century Benedictine monastery, which at one time pilgrims visited to pray at the shrine of St Edmund, who was buried there. I'll leave you to guess why the town was so named. It's also famous because it was where all the influential lords of England agreed to get the King to sign the Magna Carta.
Our next stop was Cambridge and as you can see from the photos it was snowing. Kings college and the chapel looked spectacular. The snowflakes were big and starting to fall thick and fast, we decided it was time to move on further south.
Himself managed driving through the falling snow along the M1 as if it was second nature. The weather had turned icy, with forecasts of worse to come. Minus temperatures overnight and day temperatures only reaching 0 degrees.
Up to now the weather had been incredibly mild and mistakenly I had thought being in the UK during winter was a piece of cake. So much so, that I'd even given some of Himself's thermals to the caretaker at the York flat, to free up bag space, for extra purchases, well he hadn't been wearing them!
Right now I'm hoping and praying for milder weather to return, before Himself notices his thermals are no longer in the bag and starts complaining of it being chilly down south.
No comments:
Post a Comment