We walked to the York Oratory, a local Catholic Church that Lyn described as "ornate but not very interesting". Outside a homeless gentleman was harassing those who entered and muttering to himself.
I decided against visiting the local York museum and instead visited the York tourist information centre to plan tomorrow's adventure. Mission accomplished, I returned to the church via McDonalds where I stole 6 sugar sachets. The homeless gentleman was still there. He grizzled at everybody and made two forays into the church and was gently escorted out again. The parishioners seemed to know him well. The only person he seemed to avoid was me. Perhaps he instinctively recognised the sort of moral reprobate who would steal sugar. I stuck my head inside and dimly saw a packed church through clouds of incense. Eventually Lyn emerged smelling very holy but rather unimpressed by the cold formality of the service.
Next adventure was another place of worship, the National Rail Museum. This incredible place is to railroads what the Vatican museums are to art. Housed in huge old rail sheds, the place is full of wonders, from Stephenson's Rocket to the Mallard, Flying Scotsman and Eurostar. Every imaginable sort of rail memorabilia can be found.
I walked to the nearby York Museum Gardens which were lovely and very interesting. There were the now very familiar rampant daffodils etc as well as the architectural debris of the last two millennia. The ruins included some of the walls of the great Roman settlement of Eburacum with medieval additions, a ruined Abbey, hospitium and church, a 19th century observatory and an Italian cafe.
I decided against visiting the local York museum and instead visited the York tourist information centre to plan tomorrow's adventure. Mission accomplished, I returned to the church via McDonalds where I stole 6 sugar sachets. The homeless gentleman was still there. He grizzled at everybody and made two forays into the church and was gently escorted out again. The parishioners seemed to know him well. The only person he seemed to avoid was me. Perhaps he instinctively recognised the sort of moral reprobate who would steal sugar. I stuck my head inside and dimly saw a packed church through clouds of incense. Eventually Lyn emerged smelling very holy but rather unimpressed by the cold formality of the service.
We adjourned to the Italian cafe to debrief and drink coffee. Then I gave Lyn a highlights tour of my discoveries.
Next adventure was another place of worship, the National Rail Museum. This incredible place is to railroads what the Vatican museums are to art. Housed in huge old rail sheds, the place is full of wonders, from Stephenson's Rocket to the Mallard, Flying Scotsman and Eurostar. Every imaginable sort of rail memorabilia can be found.
I thought we might finally escape and then Lyn found the huge model train display. We watched toy trains for some time. Lyn's face was lit, "I could watch this for hours." Apparently this was ornate and interesting.
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