Day 16: A fond farewell to the Yorkshire Wolds...

This is our last full day in the little village of Bishop Wilton and we are both a bit sad about leaving - it's an absolute treasure. The weather has not been great but we've had a few sunny  mornings and afternoons and have managed to see and do quite a lot in our week here.  Tomorrow we're off to the Lake District, about three hours away, and if it has half the charm of the Yorkshire Wolds, we'll be very happy.

A fairly lazy day today, partly because a ploomber had been soommoned by our landlady about a prooblem in the neighbour's yard affecting her pipes. We offered him a cup of tea and jam tart which he accepted gratefully and he told a delightful yarn about a job yesterday where the client offered him"soomthing to drink" and he said "whatever you're 'aving, with milk and two sugars" so they gave him a cup of Bovril with milk and two sugars.  (For those unfamiliar with Bovril, it's like Bonox or beef tea.)

Speaking of plumbing matters, I have already moaned about British showers and how complex they are. Here is a pic of the shower in our cosy cottage at Bishop Wilton.  Needless to say it's over a very high bathtub.  To turn the unit on, there's a long cord from a boxy attachment on the ceiling. You can then choose one of three settings using the white buttons in the middle of the unit: high, cold or economy. We have no idea what they mean, but we always choose high.  The large dial sets the water temperature from 1 to 5, with 5 being very hot. 4 is not hot enough.  And the water pressure is so low that it would take five minutes to fill a bucket.  The button at the top switches the water on and off.  Still scratching my head as to why something like, you know, a couple of taps couldn't do the same job more efficiently.  I'm sure  there's a market for a coffee table book: "Quirky British Showers". In our travels both this time and last, we have encountered quite a few of them!         

Having said that, we have been very comfortable at Bramblefield Cottage and it is certainly better appointed than Endsleigh Court in London, where the kitchen had seven slotted spoons, one huge, unlidded saucepan and a small frying pan. This kitchen has everything.  There are cosy settees to spread out on with blankets to cover your knees in the loungeroom plus a huge telly, and a telly in each of the bedrooms.  We will certainly be complimentary when we write in the guest book.       
                                                                                  
   

Braving the wind and rain, this afternoon we took the air (as Jane Austen might say) along Pocklington Canal. The air was a tad smelly but despite that and the weather, it was actually rather pleasant, and yet again like Wind in the Willows (see Regents Park post) except soggy.

This pic (which also features our car) is of the canal head - it ends at the brick wall. The canal was nine miles long and was built between 1815 and 1818.  It thrived until the railway came to town and it closed down completely in 1932. 

There is now a dedicated group - the Pocklington Canal Amenity Society - that keeps the

waterway clean and maintains the locks.  There is signage everywhere about rare plants and the profusion of insects (by which we hoped they did not mean mozzies) and waterbirds.  We saw plenty of handsome ducks and a few molehills.  No mozzies or other insects - they would have needed their wet weather gear.   

The rain is still coming down outside at 4.40 pm - do hope it fines up for our long haul across the island tomorrow to Cumbria.  But my main man Geoffy has successfully steered us through all sorts of tempests on unfamiliar roads, whether motorways or country lanes, so I have full confidence in him.  And no, I do not want to take the wheel myself. I'm a big blouse in that respect.  But Geoffy does tell me I have excellent navigation skills when our sat nav is being a dickhead, so in spite of my movie star looks, I'm not just decorative in the passenger seat.

                                                                                                                                    

And finally a pic of my beautiful Golden Retriever, Rebel, who occasionally gets carried away when doing her make-up.
My several million Facebook friends have already seen this pic (she was feeling Joan Crawford-ish) and most of those several million will know, as fellow dog-heads, how much I miss her.

Till tomorrow, and Cumbria! xxxx






Our best laid plans for an outdoorsy last day in Yorkshire were foiled by the notoriously fickle climes.  Never mind, the stroll along the canal was a nice outing, despite the raindrops that felt like needles on our noses and eyelashes. We walked for about an hour, and passed several locks like this one.

Here's one of another lock, complete with Lockhouse, where we assume the Lockmaster or Lockmistress lives.

 

 

Since there's not a lot more to report on today's activities, I'll return to one of my favourite subjects, English pubs.  Who would have picked that?  Yesterday at the Duke of York in Whitby that I was so taken with, our adjoining table was occupied by two well dressed late-middle-aged women having a delightful looking lunch of crab sandwiches and a couple of white wines.  They seemed to be having a great time, enjoying as they were the prime position at the bay window overlooking the harbour, which we would otherwise have snaffled for ourselves.  To my mind, this scene was not at all typical of most Australian pubs of my acquaintance.  Maybe I'm wrong, or maybe we just don't do pubs anywhere near as well as the English.

 

And finally, I know that everyone is just hanging out to know the derivation of the Theakston's Old Peculier, referred to briefly yesterday.  It turns out it takes its name from a parish court established in mediaeval times to deal with religious offences including drunkenness, brawling and 'taking a skull from the churchyard and placing it under a person's head to charm them to sleep'.  Commit this to memory for your next trivia night.  It's bound to come up.

 

And finally, yes really finally this time.  The rain has stopped and there's even a suggestion of blue sky, unfortunately far too late for today's planned festivities.  Ah Yorkshire weather, unpleasant one day, execrable the next.  Only kidding; it's a seriously great place to visit.