Likes to Write

When I was growing up I read a lot of historical fiction, and my favourite period of English history was, and is, the War of the Roses.  Given that, it’s not surprising that I wanted to include York, the home of Edward IV, Richard III and Warwick the Kingmaker, on our itinerary.

York is an ancient walled city, which has been a key thoroughfare and trading route in England for centuries.  It has Viking origins and was burned to the ground by William the Conqueror in 1069, but rebuilt and is mentioned in the Doomsday Book.  Some of the walls of the city are still  both in existence and accessible, and parts of them can be walked, giving you a view of the city – and some backyards! – which you won’t see otherwise.

The city walls also house the Richard III Museum, established to argue the case against Richard being the dastardly villain of Shakespeare’s plays, responsible for usurping the throne from his brother’s sons and ultimately murdering them.  Given that Shakespeare was writing for Elizabeth I, granddaughter of the man who killed Richard in combat, I’ve always thought there was room for doubt about his portrayal of the last Yorkist king.  In addition, the records show that Richard was a loyal brother to Edward, and a noted warrior, both things at odds with Shakespeare’s portrayal of him as a traitorous hunchback.

While in York we went on a tourist tour, one of those buses with a recorded narration describing what you see.  While I was pretty familiar with the medieval history of the place, I learned quite a bit about other aspects of York’s history.  For example, in centuries past there was a tax on windows and if you didn’t pay they could be bricked up, giving rise to the phrase “daylight robbery”.  Nor did I know chocolate has been made there since the 1700s by the Quaker families of Roundtree and Terrys, both of which pioneered social and industrial reforms including paid annual leave and a focus on education for workers and their families. Kit Kats are still made in York, and this history may explain the number of sweet shops still evident in the city.

The stunning York Minster, which dominates the skyline, took 252 years to build and was completed in 1472. It is both a minster and a cathedral as it is a centre of Christian teaching and has a seat known as a cathedra where the archbishop sits.  We went to Evensong the first night we were there and Mum and Dad went to Holy Communion the day we left York.

We also learned about the names used in the town. “Bootham” appears often, so I assumed there had been a man of that name who was being remembered, but it actually refers to an area of the old town in which many trader booths were established. Similarly, Jewbury is an area in which many Jews were buried, something which only came to light recently when a burial area was discovered.  The Shambles, one of the most ancient streets in the town, used to be a street of butchers, and waste from the shops was thrown into the street which was washed down twice a week.

As a cat lover I was particularly interested in the York cat trail.  Stories of its origins vary. Either a builder of bygone days started putting cat images on his work to frighten away rats and mice and the plague and illness they carry, or Sir Stephen Aitcheson placed two on a building he owned in 1920 and the idea caught on.  Then in 1979 a local architect called Tom Adams revived the idea by placing them on buildings he designed, and new cats can be commissioned through sculptor Jonathon Newdick.  Whatever the truth, there are now 17 cats on various buildings in the city, and tourists often walk the cat trail trying to spot them.

The second day we were there I made the mistake of driving in the city. After two frustrating hours of one way streets, right/left hand only lanes, dead ends and pedestrian only areas, I gave up in disgust and we caught taxis thereafter.  The taxi were always reasonably priced, and the drivers friendly and informative, so there was an up-side to this. As one of them said to me, “York is not a city built for cars”.  Very true!

We also had some personal drama in York, as Dad had a fall when he was visiting the Railway Museum while Mum and I were at the Quilting Exhibition.  Locals helped him and called the medics, who patched him up and took him to the hospital. We was checked out, x-rayed and strapped up, and discharged with bruises and lacerations to his hand, but no major damage.  Interestingly, no one asked for ID and there was no bill.  We would have been covered by a reciprocal arrangement with Medicare anyway, but I do find it curious there was so little paperwork.  Nonetheless, we’re very grateful for the care he received.

I enjoy travelling as much for the unplanned, unexpected experiences as for those organised and scheduled in advance, and we’ve encountered several of these small joys in the last few days.

On Monday we visited the Royal Yacht Britannia which is now permanently moored at Edinburgh and open for visitors. There are four decks and you get to see everything from the crew’s quarters to the engine room to the Queen’s bedroom and the honeymoon suite (the only room with a double bed, incidentally). There is an officers’ dining room, a state dining room, a drawing room, Queen’s sitting room (office), a sick bay and so on. Adding to the grandeur, gifts from around the world showcased in the state rooms, and mementos from former sailors are featured elsewhere.

Mum is using a wheelchair sometimes as she can’t comfortably walk distances or stand for lengths of time, and we were able to navigate the whole boat with the chair. Admittedly it was a tight squeeze sometimes but we got through, and the staff helped us use the lift to access the tearooms. I’m a republican but wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to take tea in that setting!

Coincidentally we visited during their Julibee celebrations which meant quite a number of former Britannia sailors were back on board, talking to visitors and generally being helpful. Mum was delighted to be given a rose and later, a Britannia rosette, by some of the ‘yotties’ – and very chuffed at the kiss on the cheek which came with it!

Our visit to Moffatt was completely different though also unexpected. We are using a GPS in the car to help us navigate our way around the UK. It has a female voice and has almost become a fourth personality in the car, known as “the lady” – as in “I wonder if the lady’s gone to sleep” when the GPS is unnervingly silent for long stretches, or “wonder which way she’ll take us” when we’re waiting for directions from the voice in the box.

A couple of days ago the lady decided we needed a drive in the country, and directed us off the highway and across the country for about an hour, before we connected with another highway heading in the direction of Windermere. It didn’t really matter, as it only added about 15 minutes to the journey, and we did get to see lots of farming land (sheep, cattle and timber) and some pretty spectacular hills. It also took us through Moffatt, where we had lunch and stretched our legs.

I enjoyed the pretty little town with several rows of shops (including one called Thingummyjig), friendly people and picturesque buildings. They also had, wonder of wonders, winter clothing on sale, so I bought a fleecy zip up jacket and a waterproof outer jacket. I say wonder of wonders, as everywhere else we’ve been has only had summer stock available despite a decidedly cold spring. (Hopefully now that I’ve invested in winter clothing the weather will improve!)

The final serendipitous happening recently was our visit to Gretna Green, which we detoured to on our way to Windermere (thereby causing the lady to mutter “recalculating, recalculating” in an annoyed tone) to see the famous blacksmith’s shop, where couples of another age could marry despite the objections of family. Gretna has actually made quite an industry out of its historical links, and there were many buildings and shops in the complex. For a small fee I entered the smithy and wandered through a surprisingly interesting exhibition.

I learned that centuries ago weddings were a much less legalistic arrangement than they are today, and largely revolved around a couple joining hands and pledging to their union in front of witnesses. However the church found this unsatisfactory, and lobbied for more regulation, leading to the signing of an English Marriage Act. The Act, however, was not law in Scotland, so couples wishing to marry despite opposition would dash to Gretna Green, the first town across the border, and marry at the smithy, often with fathers, brothers or children from a previous marriage in hot pursuit.

There were also cases of the children of rich men being enticed into marriage through seduction or fraud; at least one fraudster ended up imprisoned for three years after his deceit was discovered, and the ‘marriage’ ultimately dissolved through an act of parliament. Over time restrictions were imposed, including a provision requiring couples wishing to marry to live in Scotland for 21 days beforehand, and for a period of time weddings at Gretna were stopped altogether. However, that was later reversed and the town is now a popular wedding venue once more.

Although it was an impulsive decision to visit, I’m very glad we did.