I haven’t been to York in years. It’s so long ago that I think I must have been at Middle School, which dates it around 1980.
I had a simple plan.
Take The Boy Child to York by train.
Meet Mum there.
Go to the National Railway Museum.
Explore within the City Walls.
Stare at the majestic beauty that is York Minster.
Stay overnight in a hotel.
Go to the National Railway Museum again.
Say goodbye to Mum.
Get the train back to London.
That didn’t happen.
The train sat at a station for two hours after the train ahead of us brought down the overhead power lines.
We arrived in York four hours late.
Mum had checked us in to the hotel, which was conveniently next to the station. Bag drop, supper (if you can call it that) in a well known burger place and an evening stroll.
The Boy Child was taken with the street theatre.
The Minster was never more lovely in the early evening sunshine
The Shambles were as interesting as I recalled.
And we were treated to a beautiful sunset.
This carousel was in the grounds of our hotel. The Boy Child called it the York Eye.
Mummy and Granny not that far behind him.
Hotel fire alarm sounded at 03.50 hours. Building evacuated. I was very glad Mum had read the Fire Evacuation Plan on the back of our room door.
We stood in the hotel grounds for half an hour. In the dark. In our pyjamas.