Accommodation in Britain is very expensive and their ratings, as we have discovered is different to ours. As we drove into Hull, the hairs on my arms started to rise and we both looked with concern to the groups of people hanging about outside liquor stores and bars. Multiple high-rise housing blocks loomed before us and we realised our accommodation was next door. Steel fences with spikes surrounded the building and broken glass provided more security at ground level. With little choice we alighted from the car to be greeted by a bald headed bloke wearing daggy black tracksuits pants, a black oversized jumper and thongs. He asked if we were checking in and after reluctantly answering him, clearly giving him some non-verbal cues that I didn’t trust him, he assured us he was the hotel manager. Stating he would escort us to our room, I was immediately suspicious. Anyhow, we made it unscathed and entered the smallest room on the planet, only marginally larger than our car ( it’s a tiny Citroen). The en-suite had the pungent odour of mould, which we found in the cupboard under the sink, mixed with the scent of rotting timbers, ineffectively masked by silastic. The toilet was so close to the shower that you had to sit sideways in order to use it. The shower door was broken and the bed was a disaster.
We found the laundry and we have now shrunk just about everything we washed with the dryer set at about 800 degrees. Using our time to plan, our escape, and travels further down the line, we finally got some light sleep, jerking awake every time someone yelled or at one point did a bit of a war cry outside the window. The view outside our window showed the clever design of large glass fragments imbedded into the concrete wall, to prevent unwelcome guests. At about 5 am we gave up, got up and left. The further we drove the better we both felt. I shall be leaving a very special review once I’ve recovered from the trauma.
Prior to our poor decision to stay in Hull we did enjoy a lovely stay at York. At the complete other end of the spectrum the B&B we stayed at was just delightful, centrally located to the city, we have nothing but praise for the establishment. We spent a full day playing tourist in York and thoroughly enjoyed what it had to offer. The on-off bus provided a good base to travel the city and the commentary was amusing as well as informative. With 20 stops we managed to get a good look at most of the highlights, despite the drizzly rain.
York is a walled city in northeast England that was founded by the Romans with its history dating back to 71 AD. It really is like stepping back in time, with many of its medieval features still standing today. Once called Jorvick, York was once the capital of Viking territory. We learnt that the vikings did not, in fact, wear horns on their helmets and this myth was made up some two hundred years ago by an enthusiastic storyteller to add more character. A superstitious town you will also find white cements cats, atop window ledges randomly placed around town, for good luck. We saw a few, and also found a black one - not sure about the significance of this one. They also have the famous church with two doors, one to enter and one that remained open to ensure the devil could leave when children were being baptised. Known as the devil’s door it would never be used by any members of the congregation. Going with the theme of superstition large gargoyles can still be seen along the gates to the city, to keep out bad spirits. The city gates were also keen to send a message to any potential tractors to the crown so those convicted such crimes would be beheaded, the head then rolled in tar and then mounted on spikes above the entry. The most famous of note is King Henry VI on the orders of Queen Margaret. On the topic of dying, York was also the last city to host hangings at what is now the York racecourse. Notorious highwayman Richard Turpin was executed in 1739. His hanging is said to have brought thousands to the city to watch his death. He was not popular until he was ent to the gallows.
As we travelled around we also noted many windows that had been bricked over and remain that way today. We were told that the saying “daylight robbery” may have been born here, after a tax was placed on households, dependant on the number of windows people had in their home, so in order to save costs, people bricked them over. While York’s history is as gruesome as any other English city, it does have some quirky features like boasting the smallest house in England and the shortest street with the longest name. Whip-ma-whop-ma-gate is the name of the street with only three ‘houses’ numbered 1,1A, 1 1/2. It also boast the Shambles - a quaint row of shops where history states that the distance between buildings, at its narrowest point, on the upstairs level, allowed people to shake hands across the lane from their windows. It once boasted 25 butchers shops, but now none remain. The street was named in the Doomsday book of 1086. The street is now targeted at the tourist industry with a myriad of shops and an outdoor market, in amongst a range of pubs, restaurants and cafes.
We also visited the York museum which depicted life from bygone days - dark, dirty and difficult. An intriguing display but not as addictive as the York National Railway museum. This was, by far, Daryl’s favourite stop. This museum is the largest of its kind in the world and houses iconic locomotives such as the Mallard, the world’s fastest steam locomotive, the Japanese bullet train, various royal carriages, and so much more. York also hosts a number of antique stores and Daryl found his second love, antique clocks. So many, much cheaper than Australia. If he could send them home I have no doubt he would have, some of them are indeed works or art. Hundreds of years old and still ticking in perfect time. York did not disappoint in the pub scene and we enjoyed their unique hospitality once again.
Moving on from York, we coasted towards South England via Whitby and Robin Hood’s Bay, towards Cambridge. Whitby greeted us with thousands of other tourists pounding the pavement towards any seaside activity. We struggled to find a spot for lunch and found the place to have little appeal in comparison to our seaside resorts. Deciding we should do something while here, we hopped on a questionable bay cruise run by a chain smoking elderly gent and his pirate friends. This was enjoyable although, without any audio telling us what we were looking at, it was a bit difficult.
Whitby is famous for being the inspiration for the creation of Dracula and Captain Cook also once lived here. With the parking meter ticking we decided it was time to move on and made our way to Robin Hoods Bay. This very steep, confined, waterfront village, boasts grey sand and very low tide with some impressive cliffs. The streets are so narrow you cannot get a car to the beach and must walk several hundred steps. Lined with all manner of B&Bs, cafes and gift shops it is quite delightful, Except for the smell of seaweed and midgies flying in your face. I did score a gluten free scone, which was rather nice. By the way their is no historical connection with the infamous Robin Hood and the village!
Scarborough was another disappointment with gritty grey mud for sand and lots of arcade centres, clearly designed for the family groups who flock to the area in summer. We left after a quick look around and made our sorry way to Hull.
Quirky fact: in the UK it is illegal to have a white reflector on the back of vehicles, so you will notice that all vehicles have a white number plate at the front and a yellow one at the back!
Until next time,
N
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