At home in Staithes.

Two trains and a bus, and then a half-mile walk (fortunately downhill) and we are here in Staithes, listening to the cries of seagulls and the slap of the North Sea. Bliss.

To be the ONLY people in York Minster, to stand in the Chapter House alone: just us, the light, and all those medieval faces--was an experience equal to being in Stonehenge at dawn. Incomparable.

All that and now this. The extra is a little harmonica-playing at sunset.

P.S. Somehow the dates got reversed. This is really June 3, the farewell to Wales was June 2.

Tomorrow, weather permitting, we will walk part of the ancient Cleveland Way, a track people have been walking since Caedmon was writing poems....

Also tocome: a description of Anthony's very beautiful cottage, so kindly offered.