York

Following a fairly early start and a wee detour to Haltwhistle station to drop off young Julia, a backpacker from the Netherlands who had struck out on her own after being on holiday with her family, we were on our way to York. The weather started off pretty grey but it turned really nasty later on. The rain was falling so hard visibility was cut to a couple of hundred yards at most. Not the best conditions to be driving in. Fortunately it didn't last, but it served as a timely reminder to Christine that her camera backpack lacked any solid rain protection. So, the first order of business upon arrival in York (heh, of course after lunch) was to hunt out an outdoor supplies shop and purchase said cover. A few stores in and we reached Nevisport, who were in the middle of a....

S A L E !!!

Yep, four little letters that strike fear into any man and a deep longing look in the eyes of women everywhere. 3 hours A short time later...

Heh, only joking C (and to be fair, she did buy something)!

We headed out towards York Minster. We planned on visiting tomorrow but we had a wee wander around it, just as the rains began once more. Not heavy, but just enough to deter photography. Christine was happy because she got to test her new cover. This shot I think was of the only dry piece of the Minster. Another detail shot as my blip mojo was still to be found wanting.

So, with the rain seemingly set to stay close we decided to go to the Jorvik Viking Centre and take in the tour and exhibition. It was another fascinating delve into history. The tour is an interactive ride through the town showing the sights and smells of Viking life, while the exhibition displayed everything from tools and trinkets to battle scarred skeletons and weaponry.

Then it was off to find our new base of operations. We couldn't get booked into the hostel in York itself, so we had an hour's trip to the village of Osmotherley to the north. A proper English village it was too. A main street, with a village square and a village pub just up from the village school. Of course, I took a wrong turning (not the sat nav's fault this time) and ended up touring round an extra piece of the English countryside. We came upon a woman walking her dog, who seemed quite surprised to see us. When we asked if she knew where the youth hostel was, her reply was priceless.

"Do we have one? I didn't know."

When I explained we were looking for the hostel in Osmotherley, it all became clear and she told us we'd need to go back to the dual carriageway and actually take the correct turn off. Phah! Where's the fun in that?

D'oh!