The Grand Old Town of York

We came to York a day earlier than expected. The trip up was uneventful apart from a gastronomic disaster at a Services stop, where I ordered for breakfast, a bacon, pork sausage and egg bap. Never having eaten a bap before, not knowing what a bap was, I plunged into the delights of 'try something new' only to discover that cardboard would have tasted better than this bap and the only thing it didn't come with was a cardiologist. Never again. No more baps for this boy. I'm bapped out.

Our apartment would not be available for a day, so Chris booked us into a quaint old hotel, the Pavilion, nice enough, but you had to walk through the bar to get to your room. Not ideal, especally on Saturday night. We then walked down into the old city of York.

I am sorry, but I have to use this phrase yet again. "What can I say?" The city, which was founded by the Romans in 71 CE, has a medieval wall around it, still surviving, with a few special gates leading in and out dotted along its perimeter. One of them, Walmgate, the area where we are staying, has a cafe in it with multiple rooms and battlements on which to plonk your tired self down and enjoy a coffee and maybe a pastry. Which is exactly what we did. So nice.

We walked through Coppergate, a series of streets that are narrow, ramshackle and have tiny boutique stores on both sides. There was 14th century architecture and Tudor architecture everywhere. They did not believe in straight lines in those days (not really), but most of these have bent and wobbled and curved and twisted over the centuries to present as they do today; a an architectural delight to the eyes. That night, we went to a local pub, The Lighthorsemen, for a an Italian meal, made and served by a very suave chef, whose wait person was away that night.

On the following day, we moved into our apartment on the canal, which has green mossy weed growing on it, ducks and geese and swans swimming in it, and minnows and larger fish swimming in it. The canals are part of the two rivers here, the confluence of the Ouse and the Foss. That night, we ate out at a tapas bar called trio on Whip-Ma Whip-Ma gate. It was the 5th anniversary of Mum's passing, so we raised a glass and toasted Mum's love, wit and steadfastness in our lives.

Today again, we walked through Coppergate and this time, into the Shambles, an even smaller street, rightfully famous, for there is nothing I have seen like it. It's tiny from side to side with medieval and 18th century shops up to the street, no straight lines, and the whle thing looking like Diagon Alley from Harry Potter. In fact, some shops traded on this cinematic reference, with a potion shop, and a shop called the Imaginarium at which I bought a tapestry wall-hanging of a cat.

Today too, we had pre-purchased tickets to the Jorvik Viking Museum. Jorvik was what York was called after the Vikings conquered it around the 900s. The Museum was an absolute delight. Lining up with others for our 10,20am timeslot, we did not realise that we would walk over some glassed panels covering a did and then sit in viking ship shaped gondolas to be taken through an animatronic version of the town of Jorvik. As you well know, animatronics can be done very badly, but this was not one of those occasions. It was absolutely brilliant; from the men, women and children, to the pigs and hens, to the priest delivering the last rites (yes, the Vikings converted to Christianity here), to the various artisans and tradesfolk plying their trades and wares. It was lots of fun and truly remarkable. The commentary in our gondola was well-researched and first class.

Finally today, we had our last sightseeing experience in York. We went to Yorkminster, the most marvellous and impressive cathedral I have ever seen. Yorkminster is a monster. It is a 13th century cathedral, originally Catholic but now Anglican, the seat of the Archbishop of York, who is we understand, is the 3rd in the Anglican hierarchy after the monarch and the Archbishop of Canterbury.

The outside of Yorkminster is a true wonder of architecture. Light coloured stone, flying buttresses right along it and its doors, OMG, its doors are soemthing to behold. The transepts are almost as massive as the nave itself. Due to the death of the Queen, the interior of the Cathedral was closed for tourism, but you were still allowed in if you wanted to go in to to pray, or light a candle or for reflection. I had not come all the way rom Australia to York only to miss the interior of Yorkminster. I simply stepped up and told the girl I was going in for reflection.

I did not stay long, but walked along the back of the church and looked down its huge central aisle as far as the choir screen, and down each of the outside aisles, almost as wide as the central itself. The ceiling is a wonder to behold. Light airy, so high. A glorious sight. Of course, due to the solemnity of the occasion, I did not take any photographs inside. I am so glad I got to see this gothic masterpiece. I will never forget it.

Once outside, come midday, the Yorkminster bell started to chime. It chimed every 30 seconds or so for a full hour. It was a deep sonorous bell that felt mournful and, Republican though I may be, I found it deeply moving.

A rest back at our digs, and then an Italian meal in Fossgate, we have returned on our final evening in York, greatly enriched to have visited such a place as this. We will relax tonight and watch the second episode of Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power which we started last night. Tomorrow, we head for a side tour to Durham on way to Newcastle upon Tyne. York, we will never forget you.Read more