Ticket to Ride

 I woke up early to the sound of the indomitable rain, to scroll through a mountain of lovely birthday messages and take a few calls. The concierge who sorted my dinner booking last night was on the ball and turned up at breakfast to ask if it was too early for a birthday champagne. The answer is below.

He really did pull out all stops to get me a dinner booking last night. To give the full story, it was so cold and horrible and I was feeling uncertain about walking around on my own at night. He tried twice to get me into the hotel restaurant and when he came back the second time shaking his head, I may have been a bit teary…. he said “Don’t worry - you WILL go to the ball. I’ll sort something out”. Anyway, I was seated in alcove that I suspect did not normally have a table in it. It fit one chair and a tiny table. The black shutter is half of the entry and my chair was touching the walls - maybe just over a meter squared. York is packed to the rafters and I have been unable to get tickets to many of the sights - York Minster, the Castle Museum and the Merchant Hall were booked out all weekend. 

Back to this morning: Whilst in a warm dry building, the rain seemed manageable, but once I left the shelter of the hotel to walk to the Viking museum it was nasty. I had to deal with the wind blowing my brolly inside out repeatedly. It did make for an absence of crowds and some very pretty photos around the shambles.

We lined up in the pouring rain, as the door guard, in full Viking fancy dress, was unwilling to let anyone in a minute early. I did have a good chat to the couple next to me, and discovered that the girl, like many others I have spoken to, has never left the North. She said she had never had an opportunity to go to London, as it was expensive and very far away, and people from the South didn’t interest her. They had lots of good advice about local sights to see. Everyone has been so earnest about wanting me to like their home. It’s an interesting but subtle difference to the US. The US seems to have a different level of confidence- they know their home is good, ergo you will like it. Here, they are unsure. They HOPE you will like it, and then are very pleased when you say you do. I’ve had so many questions at work in the style of “So do you laike our country then?”

The Viking museum turned out to be a ride in a little cart around a Viking village with animatronic characters, complete with sounds and smells (yes really). It was completely lame but kind of interesting and when the ride stopped there were good displays of the actual artefacts they found in the dig nearby, including skeletons. I’ve taken a photo (with the boys in mind) of a fossilised human coprolite and will let you google what that is.

I had a ticket to a medieval house valid for later in the morning, but after wandering around in the rain for an hour, with another hour still to wait, wet feet and cold hands, I called it a day for York and headed to the train station. There I found that my train ticket for first class would be a non event- all trains were replaced by busses till the afternoon. Forty five minutes later I dragged myself back to the apartment for down time.  The heated towel rail is festooned with clothing drying out. A photo from the bus, blurry from the water running down the window gives you a feel for how dreary the weather is.

I booked an early dinner at an Indian street food restaurant, Mowgli. I sat on a swing, which is not conducive to multiple cocktails, so I stuck to one only. They did a birthday dessert for me, which was a nice treat.