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March 2023

Cliches up the wazoo

I’ve been planning this post for a while, and it�s been an exciting experience for me. You see, the amount of puns or cliches I’ve got at my disposal for the subject line of this entry are immense. In the last couple of weeks we�ve been ice skating at Somerset house, and on a weekend trip up to York. This leaves me with possible subject lines of “Ice Ice Baby”, “Skating on thin ice”, and maybe even a reference somehow to the awesome Disney movie The Mighty Ducks regarding the iceskating. As for the trip to York, I’ve thought of wonders such as “Old York Old York!”, “Start spreading the news”, and “The grand young tourists to York”. The puns practically write themselves.

Due to the bevy of wordplay wonders that I’ve had to choose from, I can’t seem to think of one that I like best. It’s like trying to make the impossible decision of which one of your children are your favourite – although in the case of Cal and I, we all know that we are our families favourites – there�s no use lying, we can see it in your eyes.

Aaaanyway, on to the blogging.

You know how I start most of my entries with a rhetorical question? Well I’m going to do it again now. Do you know the cliche “A picture is worth a thousand words” ? I assuming you do. Well two weeks ago, Cal and I went with some others to Somerset house, a massive mansion type thing on the Thames to have a crack on the ice skating rink they put up there every Christmas. For better or for worse, I took an assload of movies on our camera while we were there, and, as an excuse to test out my newly fangled youtube plugin for the blog here’s the best one.

Now, if a picture is worth a thousand words, and this movie runs at 15 frames per second for 30 seconds�

1000 x 30 x 15 = 450,000

Congratulations. By watching that, you’ve saved me the hassle of writing almost half a million words. Who wants to high five?

As for York, we did take a few videos on the camera there too, but unfortunately the only good one we got was of me chasing around some geese and then getting a bit scared when they turned on me. Seeing as this makes me look slightly more stupid than usual we’re going to be doing this part the old fashion way (with the me writing things and you pretending to bother reading). Hooray for editorial control!

To get it over and done with, York is absolutely nothing like New York. While this did not stop me from thinking I was immensely clever by adapting and singing Sinatra’s “New York New York” to “Old York Old York” the whole time we we�re there, there wasn’t much in the way of similarities. York is fairly small, the only high-rise is a church in the middle of the city, and instead of being ringed by a harbour, it is surrounded by a old wall.

I guess living in London I sort of assume that every city in England is a roughly comparable size to the capital, but York is actually pretty tiny – everything is walkable – in fact, we did a loop of the whole thing in a bit over an hour. Not that it is a bad thing of course, just sayin’. According to the random Scottish dude I was speaking to on the train back to London York is famous for three things – Yorkshire Puddings, The high number of pubs, and Hens and Buck nights. I’m also going to retrospectively add Yorkshire Terriers to that list because I just thought of those too.

Yorkshire terrier
An artists impression of a Yorkshire Terrier

Thankfully Cal and I, and Raquel and Curtis, our traveling comrades experienced all three* of these wonders.

I’m sick of writing about this now, so to find out more you�ll have to email me. Union rates stipulate that I’m only allowed to write 256,000 words per blog entry, which I’ve well and truly exceeded. In light of this travesty I�m going to the pub. If Cal happens to come on and complete this entry then she is a Scab, more likely to produce poorer quality work than union trade (ie me), and shouldn’t be trusted. Just so you know.


Comment from Callina
Time: December 11, 2006, 4:15 pm

All I can say is down with union labour! What's happened to the work
ethic in this country?! It's a slippery slope downwards which I plan
to arrest the progress of this blog down! :p

York was awesome. The weather was clear and crisp the entire time and
our hostel was more like a hotel with our attic room sporting a view
to the old city walls as well as a TV and couch!
( We arrived on Friday night and
promptly went out to discover york night life. We ended up in a river
side pub kicking it with the locals

<insert this image—Vicky-Pollard-72240.jpg&gt;

Day 1: Up early for a fry up in town to give us strength for the 275
steps up the York Minister tower. <insert image of minister>. Both
Raquel and I suffer somewhat from slightly different problems. Raq has
the vanilla fear of heights where as I have a much more complex, I
like to think, fear of falling.. I don't mind being high as long as
there is a barrier ..walking up a thin spiralling staircase on the
other hand sets my irrational fears off like the fireworks on guy
faweks night! But we both made it and were pleased with the results –
the view was amazing. After the quick decent we walked along the
closest bit of city walk <photo> to the old st mary's abby ruins
<photo> where phil chased some squirals who simply weren't having any
of it. &#61514;

That afternoon we wandered through the shambles, German Christmas
markets and the various shops before heading back to the river for a
great meal in a little place before again sampling the local pub life.
One bar of historical intrest was 'the Parish' a medieval church
whose bell ropes hang around the bar!

Day 2: Phil and I were up early so we checked out and headed into
town. I had seen a place ( the day before
that had tremendously long queues and this morning there were only a
couple of people. So going by the rule that if theres a queue it must
be good we decided upon that for breakfast. Raquel and Curtis arrived
just after we had been seated. We were treated to the best tea I have
ever had a lovely swiss rosti and a guy plaing show tunes ever so
tastefully on a piano. &#61514;

We finished walking the walls and went round the inside of the most
impressive minister ( Why is it called a
minster? Wiki has the answer: "The word is Old
English, mynster or monastery[1], derived from Latin ministerium, the
"office or "service", such as was said at set hours in the minster.
Thus minster originally applied to the church of a monastery or a
chapter: it was an abbot who presided in the minster, rather than a
bishop, as at a cathedral.". The more you know. &#61514;

Much like the previous evening we sampled various pubs including a
cellar pub called Lendels cellars. And another pub in a medieval
building called the Priory. The perfect way to end the weekend.

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