Our planned early start for our drive up north was put back an hour after Karen’s sister said she couldn’t meet us on route in the dark depths of Lincolnshire due to her and Marc going down with suspected Covid. It was a shame as Karen hasn’t seen her sister since late last year and was looking forward to doing so.
We were still on our way though by 9.30am after coming up with Plan B to break our journey up. We headed to the centre of Kings Lynn – strangely a place I had never been too. Despite it being in Norfolk it was too close to the Fens and the strange people who inhabit that area for my liking.
I was surprised though that the centre in the sunshine was not too bad if you ignored the locals. We parked outside the Minister which was yards from the Town Hall museum which was the reason for our visit. It was a modest cost to get in and the very helpful lady at reception welcomed us in. The museum itself was also modest but very well done and was worth the visit. I particularly enjoyed the ducking stool that was used locally on women who were heard scolding their husbands in public – and we talk about modern society moving on.
However, the real reason for the visit was the temporary exhibition about the local FEPOW’s because of the upcoming 80th anniversary of VJ Day. This also was modest but had lots of interest for me. We found my dad’s name in the list of POW’s which provoked a wry but sad smile on my part. I took lots of pictures of the exhibits and found some other avenues that I will want to research later. There was an extract from a BBC documentary made in 1969 that I endeavour to get a copy of to watch in full at a later date.
Then we walked along the High Street trying to avoid eye contact with any Fen people. After being in Ipswich until late last night, now this and also facing having to drive through pointless Lincolnshire (apart from Woodhall Spa and Lincoln itself) later, it was like being in a non-stop zombie horror movie.
After purchasing a meal deal in Boots, we went almost next door to a Starbucks that almost nice enough to have been in Norwich, to eat the food with a cuppa.
Our car was still intact when we returned and so we started the long drive up to Thirsk. We passed the time (or rather I did as Karen dozed for much of the way) listening to the riveting Day 5 of the 3rd test match at Lords against India. Annoyingly I missed the final wicket as we were at that precise time checking into our B&B at The Poplars for the next 3 nights.
We stayed here last year, and it felt more like a posh hotel than B&B. We had our own entrance upstairs to a large room. The whole place meets Karen’s impeccable standards, and the owner is lovely. Everything about the place is finished to a high spec.
After settling in we drove the short distance into the delightful centre of Thirsk where we parked up for free and had some fantastic fresh Fish & Chips which we ate outside in the Market Square.
Funnily enough as last year just as we finished eating it started to rain. We decided to speedily call into Tesco on the way back to buy a bottle of wine to take back with us.
By 9.30pm to Karen’s annoyance I was zonked out. The fact I had been driving for 11 of the previous 28 hours was apparently irrelevant as was the fact she had slept for many of them. By 10pm though I was sound asleep in bed and apparently snoring, although I cannot believe that part to be true.
After a good night’s sleep, we were up and ready for breakfast in the ‘big’ house. We were the only ones in there, and the freshly cooked to order breakfast was spot on as was our host who knew how much to chat and how much to leave us alone. We were glad we were back here for another visit.
Today’s plan was to drive through the dales to Hawes about an hour away. I love this part of England and always have. Apart from Norfolk it is probably my favourite area of the country. Some of it is undoubtably down to my teenage reading of James Herriot.
Driving along, my mind still blurs fact with fiction, and I am imaging James driving along the same roads as we are today. Then it gets even more blurred with recollections from the current TV series, the old one, the movies and the true biography of the author James Wight. It is the romanticised version of the Dales that I see as we drive pass the drystone walls and fields. It was just a shame that today the sky had rain in the air.
It was market day in Hawes when we arrived but probably a poor version of what James Herriot would have seen as just a few artisan stalls rather than farmers selling their wares.
We drove through the centre of Hawes to the Wensleydale Creamery just on its outside edge. The car park was full and so we parked on the road outside. By now the rain had started. After buying tickets for the 1pm Cheese Experience, we headed inside to the welcoming café to pass the time. I had a Wensleydale Cheese Scone with an extra slice of Wensleydale on the side. It was lovely and cheesy.
At the appointed time we went across to the next building where we sat through a jolly interesting talk as a pound of Wensleydale was made from scratch in front of us in 45 minutes. I was enthralled even if the cheese would not have been matured enough to eat for another 7 weeks.
All properly certified Wensleydale is made here (shame on you M&S). The factories use 35 million pints of milk each year to do so.
The next part of the experience involved tasting all the cheese made on site (some cheddar as well). My favourites were the plain Wensleydale, the blue version and surprisingly the one mixed with Ginger. We took the obligatory pictures with Wallace & Gromit and then headed back to the visitor centre where Karen now wanted another hot drink and a fruit scone. I may have headed into the separate cheese room for some more ‘tastings’ before purchasing some blue and ginger Wensleydale to take home.
Then as just we were leaving the heavens opened and we were trapped in the gift shop which we wandered around until it eased.
With all this rain it amused us that the radio in the car was mentioning the hose pipe ban in Yorkshire.
With that we headed to Hardraw to visit the waterfall which has the highest single drop in the country and was where Marian observed Robin Hood take a shower in the 1991 film.
The falls are on private land and so grudgingly we paid the £4 entrance fee to enter. It was a gentle walk to the falls, and it was impressive even in the summer. Because of the rain it made the path that went behind the falls (to see the backside of water) rather muddy and slippery otherwise despite the sign warning of the danger I would have climbed behind it. Being mature and grown up in recognising the damage I could do to myself is no fun sometime.
On the walk back the rain grew heavy again and we sheltered under the canvas of some trees until it stopped. With that we decided to head back to Thirsk which was still an hours drive away.
After having a cuppa in the room, we headed out with the aim to eat in a country pub. Our first choice and number one on Trip Advisor turned out not to do food on Tuesdays so we ended up at the Old Oak Tree at South Kilvington which was a worthy alternative. It was warm and welcoming and run by a nice family. The food was beautifully home cooked. I had the Steak & Ale Pie whilst Karen had the Lasagne.
On the way back to our room we stopped at Tesco to get some fruit and then headed back to finish up the wine and eat the fruit.
Yet again after a good day I was ready for bed at 10pm the lightweight that I am.
