I wanted at least to snap the house where I lived for two years as a postgraduate. It was York's first manse, built 1759 (I would occasionally hear John Wesley snoring in my room - or if not him, one of his entourage). Unfortunately they were digging up the road right in front of it, and I couldn't get a good shot. Instead, I took this picture of the pub over the road, which doubled as my living room during that happy time. It too is a bad shot, due to being back-lit, but the penumbra is rather appropriate.
The church door at nearby Stillingfleet. The church is Norman, but the metalwork (and probably some of the wood) is clearly older. Very Viking, no?
"Hitherto-unsuspected stately home discovered in Yorkshire!"
At the back of the Temple of the Four Winds - a tourist turned to stone for photographing cows on the Sabbath.
Omiyage in use.
And now, visits to my mother aside, I'll be in Bristol for a good long time. Up until the end of August, anyway, when I'll be heading west into Wales - past Newport and Cardiff, where the M4 is still a good broad road, past the place where it dwindles into a two-lane highway, and then a dirt track, to the point where it becomes a wild-haired cackling woman who'll carry you over the mountain on her back in exchange for comfits and crab apples - and so south into the Gower. But that's another story...