Because Denial is a river at your mom's house

I just got back from another road trip. Sure, I have time for road trips. Why wouldn't I?

I went to North Yorkshire with Lady J and a couple of her friends. It's so nice sometimes to tag along on a trip that I didn't help plan. Because then no one expects anything from me and if it all goes to pot then I can't be blamed. And I don't expect much because all I want to do is look at beautiful views of beautiful England.

Highlights:

Knaresborough, which was a beautiful town with an aqueduct and castle and Mother Shipton's Cave, where they hang up teddy bears and the dripping water turns them to stone. And where the museum has this really creepy wax figure of a man who is supposed to be a local historical figure convicted of murder. He's hanging in a crow's nest thing with blood all over and an audio track groaning, "Euuuunggggh! Heeelp Meeeeee! Heeeellp Meeeee!!" over and over again while the crow goes for his eyes. Sick. Skip that corner when you go. We wandered around, found some great chocolate ice cream, (which dripped down the front of my shirt, of course), and rowed on the river with the swans and ducklings.

Drove to Rievaulx Abbey but it was too near closing time to make the entry fee worth it. I took this picture while balancing precariously on a stone fence. Decided that I want an English cottage for my birthday.


Drove to Byland Abbey instead, which was closed. The gate wasn't, though . . . got some great pictures!

Stayed the night at Easterside Farm in Hawnby, which is this beautiful 18th-century farmhouse B&B. The beds were so soft, the owner is really nice, and the view from our room was gorgeous.

It is with some misgivings that I tell the following story, but it was too funny. If anyone reading this can guess who I'm talking about then you must banish it from your mind and never speak of it. Or just skip the thing altogether. Agreed? The B&B room had 1 double bed and 1 single. (There was only room for 3 at the B&B, so Lady J stayed at a nearby hostel which didn't have room for all of us either--long story.) Anyway, one of the ladies asked for the single bed right away. I didn't blame her--I don't mind sharing a bed and figured if she would be uncomfortable with it then she should get the single. Only that night as we were settling in she started stripping down to put her nightgown on right in front of me, mid-conversation. So here's me: "Why yes, I've really enjoyed the librarianship course here aaaaaaaaand those are your breasts. No really, that's fine. I think you were one of the 10 middle-aged English ladies whom I haven't seen topless, so thank you." Really, I would have thought that sharing a king-sized bed with another fully-clothed non-cuddly sleeper would have been a notch down on the Uncomfortable Scale. But I guess that's just me.

The next morning we had this huge Full English Breakfast at the B&B which nearly did me in (they must keep a defibrillator in the kitchen somewhere), and I wasn't hungry again until that night.

Visited Whitby, which was just voted "Best Small Seaside Town" or something. I wouldn't know if that assessment is correct, though, because there were so many people that the place looked like Disneyland. We didn't stay long--it was way too crowded to actually see much, and it was all these very large women wearing tiny tank tops with the straps slung off their shoulders. For my friends who know and love Possession by A.S. Byatt, Whitby is where Ash and LaMotte go for their dirty weekend. We walked up to a seaside cliff to Whitby Abbey where it was less crowded, and it was beautiful up there--sunny with blue sky & blue water and even an old wrecked ship down below to add atmosphere.

Tried to make it to Castle Howard, where they filmed Brideshead Revisited, but got there too late to make the £8 entrance fee worth it. So we hung out in the free areas and managed to find a spot on the road where you could see the house.

Went to a lavendar farm, which I could smell before we got there--so nice. The owner has a family of deer and when he heard I was from Alaska he let me feed them. That's why it's cool to be from Alaska--cooler than actually living there, I think. This way I get all the celebrity perks without the frozen digits. When I get home I want to send him a postcard--remind me to do that, okay?

Travelled through all these small back roads to avoid traffic, so got to see lots of pretty little villages. Even saw my first real-live gypsy woman on a country road, with the little old horse-pulled caravan. She was building a fire out of broken-down office furniture.

Stopped for dinner at the Bluebell Country Inn in a little village called Alne. Had yet another fabulous English meal. Beef stroganoff & rice with the plate decorated all pretty, served with veggies and new potatoes and chips. I almost went for the creme brulee w/cherries & vanilla for dessert but picked a bread & butter pudding made with brioche and topped with fresh strawberries, cream, and a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream. If I could have made out with the thing, friends, I would have. It was that good.

Now back to work!