Showing posts with label coastliner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coastliner. Show all posts

The Nostalgic Spring Sojourn | Part 4

I was back on the bus Thursday morning, this time in the opposite direction, into York and to the railway station to meet up with my companion for the day. The walk from Patsy to the bus stop seemed to get the curtains twitching – quite possibly black leather is not considered ‘de-rigueur’ for caravanners, sporting as I was my new waistcoat, procured as a Christmas present to myself in Canterbury. Thankfully people that know me can see past what may well be considered slightly odd attire – and find a slightly odd person. Anyway..

I had about twenty minutes to kill, so the default activity – at least this early – was necking some caffeine before heading to the relevant platform to meet Sandra – fellow caravanner from near Chester and now someone I consider a very dear friend. I’m delighted to present for you below, Sandra’s blog post of the day’s events:

Tour de York & A Mash Tun

The day started as it meant to go on, the train was on time and the sky bode well for a lovely day. Our first port of call was the left luggage office to one side of the station, in a small portacabin type of building. There was a small queue of people patiently waiting their turn to offload their bags and get off to do sightseeing in the city. Well I heard a phrase a while back, namely, Sales Prevention Officer; this person definitely qualified and then some! We were treated to a speech of monologue proportions about everything that was wrong about his job and strongly worded admonishments about failure to return to collect our bags before the bewitching hour of 8pm! I tried to get him to agree to 7.45pm, which would fit in with train times but no, 7.30pm, take it or leave it! Knowing glances, or maybe stifled giggles passed among the waiting queue.

As we had had the fortune to do a fair bit of advance planning and research, we had a loose plan of what we wanted to do. But first priorities need to be addressed and we had picked out a lovely little independent coffee shop, in a turret overlooking the river bridge, near to the station, The Perky Peacock Coffee Shop. Tea, coffee, biscuits and brownies were consumed and allowed a good look at the map to work out a suitable route for the day. Given the lovely sunny weather, we also agreed on a boat trip in the afternoon.

Following the coffee etc, we ambled up towards York Minster and spent a pleasurable half hour walking around the outside in the warm spring sunshine and people watching as we went. Our ultimate aim was to visit the Shambles. There were the usual number of cafes, souvenir shops, Harry Potter themed shops and one butchers left, (The Shambles was originally a road of butchers plying their trade). In a way, we left wondering a little if it is one of those places which is a tad overhyped, down to personal choice of course.

There was an outdoor market selling food and clothing but the find was the sandwich shop, Henshelwoods Delicatessen, again highly rated on trip advisor, to buy some lovely sandwiches for an impromptu picnic sitting in the gardens by the river and the York Castle Museum which was our next port of call. Sitting out in the warm sunshine, a time to sit in peace and quiet watching the world go by and a good old natter when the mood took us! We also noted the amount of flood wood and leftover mud from the river flood earlier in the week.

We then ambled over, neither of us do fast these days, to the York Castle Museum to begin what turned out to be a fascinating couple of hours travelling through the ages. There were rooms decorated and furnished in a relevant decade right up to the 1970’s. Cue much giggling and finger pointing of, yes remember seeing this that and the other. Then it was the turn of clothing through the ages right up to the 1990’s and a Vivien Westwood exhibit of shoes. Again, much hilarity about what we used to wear and the styles. We also visited the Castle prison, so grim and dark but ended the visit on a high note in the 60’s style room. A real life Lambretta motorbike and for the technically minded, early computer games and toys like Spiralizer, Cindy Dolls, magazines and comics from years ago completed the picture.

We were in need of another sit down, fortunately the landing stage for the boat tour was a 5-minute amble and departed almost as soon as we boarded. By now the sun was high in the sky and sitting down in the saloon, quaffing refreshing cool drinks, we remarked how lucky we were to be there. Drinks consumed we ventured upstairs and passed the rest of the trip sitting outside in the sun with magnificent views of York Minster and the various bridges and sights of the city. We were fortunate, or not, depending upon your viewpoint to have the Captain of the boat who had clearly missed his vocation as, in his opinion, a stand-up comedian. We, on the other hand, were not so sure ….

We got off the boat down river by the York Museum Gardens and strolled through, people watching and commenting on how, as the sun was out, people were lying or sitting on the grass, sunbathing. Given the area had, undoubtedly been well flooded by water, we were somewhat surprised. The gardens are home to St Mary’s Abbey ruins and the Yorkshire Museum. By now time was fast approaching the only time booked event of the day … The Tour of the York Brewery and so we made our way there.

There was a short wait and we were off … fortunately there were only 4 of us on this tour, so plenty of questions and answers, helped by a really good tour guide, meant a fun and interesting time was had by all. Now for the prize of doing the tour, time to research several of the beers, some of which will ultimately end up in the Ale Archive blog in due course.

By now, we were starting to get rather hungry, we were fortunate to be advised to go to Brigantes Restaurant in the adjacent street. A lovely meal was had, with excellent service and, of course, a couple more research beers. We then suddenly realised that the 7.30pm curfew of the Left Luggage was approaching very fast indeed. A quick look at the map and we realised we were only 5 minutes’ walk away so we managed to arrive bang on time. However, the Sales Prevention Officer had yet more stings in his tail. We opened the door to be greeted by what can only be described as a sauna level of heat!! One very grumpy sales attendant who wasted no time in informing us we were the last people and he was waiting to go home!

A short amble to the station, meant that we were on time, a quick coffee and goodbyes until next time. All in all, a fabulous day.

There was a twenty-five minute wait for the next bus that would take me back to the site – and the York Tap with it’s twenty-something handpumps was thirty seconds away. I availed myself of just the one, considering that no dedicated ‘researcher’ worth his salt passes up any opportunity. Lazily though I didn’t bother to don my specs to check the writing on the handpumps and ended up with something akin to fizzy grapefruit with an aroma of bleach. Oh well.

All in all a cracking day – thank you Sandra for your lovely company and for saving me writing a blog post too!

The Nostalgic Spring Sojourn | Part 3

Tuesday, and time to head north again for the second stop of my trip and a return to York Caravan Park on the outskirts of er, York.

With around 135 miles to do and a check-in anytime after midday I’d planned on a 10’ish departure but for once was running early and pulled away at 9:40am, heading north on the M42.

I was in no rush and soon came up behind a Turners lorry doing a tad over fifty, so I tucked in behind at safe distance and watched with satisfaction as Rosie’s MPG climbed gradually, soon hitting the heady heights of 30 as we continued onto the A42 then the M1.

Clearly Rosie had sated her thirst on the way up from Brighton 4 days prior as the figure continued to rise – 31, 32, then more slowly to 33. Surely it couldn’t climb any higher – Patsy is no lightweight even though I had had a bit of clear out at the end of last year. Then it hit 34. That must be it I thought then at some point on the M18 the display edged to 35. I couldn’t believe it and thumped the steering wheel in delight. My darling Rosie, hardly in the throes of youth was truly awesome. It couldn’t last of course and a number of inclines in the A1(M) saw the figure drop but it still read 33mpg as I pulled in to York Caravan Park and was very happy indeed.

Having successfully moved Patsy onto her pitch without the motor mover for the second time, set up was fairly swift and after a cuppa and quick sarnie I set Rosie on course to the Monks Cross shopping centre where as thank you for her efforts replenished her with cheap supermarket diesel then picked up some bits and bobs in the shop. I’d come away with plenty of meals from my batch cooking efforts at home, crammed into the freezer compartment but, needed a bit of variety. Needless to say (too late) some new research samples were also procured for a thorough evaluation at some point.

York Caravan Park has many great features – nice serviced pitches and luxurious en-suite shower rooms to name but two – but one of the handiest ones is the bus stop almost literally outside the entrance. Trev and I used this many times when we we were here last – 2 years ago – but always into York. On the Wednesday though I boarded the bus travelling in the opposite direction – destination Whitby. I have to say I was a little apprehensive – 2 hours is a long time on a bus – but it was actually very comfortable with comfy spacious seats. I grabbed a seat on the top deck to make the most of the view as we travelled east to Malton, Pickering then onto the moors diverting off to Goathland, better known to many as Heartbeat country, before arriving at Whitby.

Back in the days when there was a ‘we’, I’d been to Whitby several times, once staying at a lovely little site behind the pub in Lythe just up from Sandsend. Remarkably though we’d never got to climb the famous 199 steps from the town on the eastern side of the Esk, instead getting to the famous Abbey by the road out of town.

I must admit to being a little out of puff by the time I got to the top - and thanks to the emerging sun, quite warm too – although the coat stayed on. Just. It was worth the effort though and the views across to West Cliff and back along the Esk around the harbour were terrific.

Lens clicking was interrupted as I found a spot in the grounds of St Mary’s church to devour a rather uninspiring home made ham sarnie and neck some caffeine, amused that most of the local er, residents up here wouldn’t appreciate the view:

The Abbey site was closed for building work until April but it was still possible to get some photos from the path by the perimeter wall, the traversing of which brought an unexpected ‘research’ opportunity in the shape of Whitby Brewery. The pint of Jet Black went down very well indeed and the courtyard was such a sun trap, the coat was reluctantly shrugged off. Temporarily I might add. I did ponder bringing some research samples home but at over three quid a bottle soon decided against it.

The descent was quicker and I had a pleasant amble through the shops, checking out some of the famous Whitby Jet, thinking that maybe a pair of cufflinks wouldn’t go amiss but nothing really caught my eye, so I crossed the bridge and made my way along by the harbour mouth and up to the West Cliff. Again, oddly, we never made it up here but once again the views back across to East Cliff and the Abbey were lovely and I got to see up close the Whalebone arch and the Captain Cook memorial.

I began my descent back into town, noting that there was still an hour until the next bus and after a brief consultation with that troublesome part of my anatomy that divides my left leg, decided that some medication was in order. The dispensary of choice was the Little Angel, a pub I remember from our previous visits – quelle surprise - not least because on Wednesdays they have a promo on all real ale at just over three quid a pint. Perfect.

Whilst taking my medicine I thought about my visit – both this and previous ones - and it reawakened a few dormant thoughts. You see Trev and I often talked about moving ‘up north’ and Whitby was one of the places that we considered – nice little town close to the sea and affordable – but we’d more or less discounted it because of it’s relative remoteness. It had got me thinking again though, after all, who knows what the future holds? Thankfully.

On my return to the bus station I got to meet Adam, one of the regular Coastliner drivers who would be taking us back as far as Malton. We’d talked a little on Twitter and it was nice to at last meet properly.

Predictably, given the medicinal intake earlier, the walk back to Patsy after jumping off the bus was a little brisker than ideal. Entirely my own fault obviously, but it had been a really good day however, a quiet night in was most definitely called for as there was another busy day ahead on Thursday.