HOLD IT! If you are looking for the Greek version, then go back a post!
En route to Peterborough
I shall begin this account by reminding the honoured reader that I have no clue what I am doing. Should I describe the landscape? Should I give names, times and landmarks? Should I just write whatever comes to my head? I don’t know.
It’s so strange… On an intellectual level I know I’ve packed everything, that I am on the right train and on time. Why is there then a tiny voice insisting that I will end up (again!) lost somewhere in central England?
My day started well. I was packed and ready to go two hours ahead of schedule and just had to wait for my taxi. The driver was friendly and even offered to take me through a back route so that I could avoid the jam in front of the rail station. Figures that there’d be a football match today…
Whatever! I’m on the train to Peterborough (weird name much?) where I will change to one for York.
First stop happens to be Ely. Now am I the only one who thinks that the ways this town’s name are spelled and pronounced do not much?
Looks pretty cool though. I might come for more exploring on a later date.
(Ely as we whizz by)
Oh jeez! Someone’s eating a toast. Hungry now!
Something else I find funny (yes, I know there is little discernible structure here): You never really know how heavy your suitcase is until you have to lift it over your head. Now, I never claimed any predisposition in weightlifting, so rather than having a suitcase landing on my head, I squished it between my seat and the front one. Let me tell you, it makes a pretty confortable foot stool when you sit sideways.
Half an hour to Peterborough.
En route to York
It’s really not that warm. Why then do train lines insist on always having the air conditioning on cool? I’m about an hour away from York, and the second train of the day is much more packed than the first. This time I didn’t even try to lift the suitcase. Things are a bit more complicated however, since there is someone actually sitting next to me now. Thank goodness for yoga! Every time someone needs to pass by me, I lift my legs over the suitcase, sit lotus-style and put my backpack over them. Then, once they’re gone, I…unfold again.
If you ignore the cold, I admit that traveling by train is pretty comfy. Not that that changes the fact that I can’t wait to arrive. Even I can’t stand to sit still for five hours!
The Golden Fleece, York
Finally made it to York safe and sound. The weather’s a bit cloudy, but it’s not cold, so the walk to the hotel was pleasant. From what little I’ve seen so far, York looks like a bigger version of Norwich. Not that I’m complaining!
The hotel, Georgian House, is tiny, only 18 rooms. I was miffed to realise that breakfast is not included, but I’ve already cased a few tea places that look good, so no problemo!
My room’s up in the attic. It much have been on those reserved for the servants back in the olden days. To get to it you need to climb a staircase so steep that I honestly wonder whether they built it like that on purpose!
The room is so small that the corresponding bathroom is completely separate and situated a few floors below. Should make things interesting when I go for a shower…
At least the bed is comfy.
Once I was all set, I went for a little walk around the historical centre. I’m no expert in architecture, but I doubt any of the buildings I saw were built after the 1800s. I’m going to do a more thorough exploration on Monday, but for now my goal was The Golden Fleece pub.
It’s one of the oldest and most haunted pub in England (and given that there is a skeleton at the bar, I’m not surprised).
All in all, the interior is very well kept and the food’s great.
I will go back to my hotel once I’m done with my cider. Normally I’d walk a little longer, but frankly I’d rather not get lost in a haunted city after it’s dark…