Well, the beautiful weather that smiled on us down the rump of England has long gone. The sky has fallen in, Chicken Little, and even though it is the height of summer, there is fog, and we have been in waterproofs, socks, and sleeping bags for a full two weeks. Luckily, we lived here for so long, albeit so long ago, that we have become fairly immune to the weather -- thank goodness. In our usual fashion we have been hunting down interesting little villages.
Whitby, probably our fifth trip here -- is, of course, Captain James Cook's training grounds. Here he lived while he was an apprentice seaman, lodging with his captain. Nowadays a copy of his ship, the Endeavour, takes a small group of the many thousands of tourists who flock here daily for a quick trip up and down the beautiful harbour.
Fat Betty, high on the North York moors, marks a moody and isolated spot just west of The Lion Inn at Blakey Ridge where we overnighted on our Coast to Coast walk a few years back. Terrific memories.
Heather lies still in patches of purple on the windy moors around Fat Betty, and moulting sheep dig hollows into crusts of earth to find protection from cruel winds that bite into your very bones around here. Even in summer.
We find Kilburn, the village of the Mouseman, Robert Thompson, and gaze in awe at the solid oak furniture his descendents and studio craftsmen happily make in his workshop. Still with his unique trademark emblem, a carved oak mouse, tucked into some whimsical corner of each piece that he conceived when one of his helpers working with him in a church commented that he was as 'poor as a church mouse'.
Kilburn is thick with people, here solely to visit Thompson's furniture showrooms. These crowds appear here daily. Amazing to think that pieces Thompson sold in 1930 for £5 are now being auctioned off for £5,000 and more.
Not far away is the pretty village where the Duchess of Kent grew up, Hovingham. The rather squat square castle her family owned sits around a crunchy pebbled square that seems as accessible as the village green just in front of it. You can imagine little girls from the big house running out to play. And right next door is their village church, dripping with weeping willows softly brushing old gravestones.
We move into the Yorkshire Dales proper and camp, for a week, on a farm that is straight out of All Creatures Great and Small. Smack bang in the middle of the dales scenery that was filmed. The vet is a regular visitor - a locum from New Zealand. If the sick cattle she treats live she will have proved her worth, we discover. God help her if they have reached their life's span.
Drystone walls stitch themselves across the landscape like lines in a patchwork -- right to the treeline. Stone cottages, thick with moss, border little village streets.
We think we have seen it all so many times before, but we haven't. We are especially charmed by Linton-in-Craven. Linton's packhorse bridge is a relic from ages past, arching across to the village green which rises up to the prettiest almshouses we have ever seen.
Built by a wealthy local timber merchant benefactor who made a fortune in London suppling wood for coffins needed after the Plague in 1665 and the Great Fire in 1666, these six cottages surround a central chapel built especially for the inhabitants, and all of it is used for those in need to this day, under the provisions of his will.
Rain gives away to sun on our last Sunday. It is hard to leave in the rain and almost impossible if there is sun, but, tomorrow, we have to head south to drop off our van and it is not long now till we have to catch our plane. But, we will return. And that is a promise.
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