|At The York Minster|
I was at York during this brief British holiday. Early May, and we had really crappy weather. I had brought clothes for something rather summer, and what I got, was weather that was rather blustery.
It was cloudy, wet and windy; most definitely not what I would call great holiday weather.
My wife and kids were much smarter than me. They had packed clothes for cold weather, and it was then left to me to prove my claim that I can easily stand cold weather. I think that I did rather well, even if I say so myself.
So, we took the train, walked around the town a bit, poked our heads into the Minster and returned. For some reason, possibly the weather, I was not in the mood to really appreciate the beauty of the work on the Minster, nor the great history that it has, nor it’s preeminent position in the English church. All was lost on me, as all I focussed on that day was the rather shitty weather.
We walked around, and then came to this nice little restaurant, where I decided that I would have a Yorkshire Pudding. Putting on my best BBC accent, I asked for a Yorkshire Pudding.
“Wor tha’ ye wan’?” snarled the rather surly waiter.
“Yorkshire Pudding”, replied I, still in my best BBC accent
“Yer be wantin’ some puddin, aye?”, he rasped back.
“Yes, please’, my BBC accent starting to waver, with some Indian now starting to show through.
And, along it came, steaming hot, looking great but tasting less yummy than my taste buds had anticipated. This is a classic rookie mistake, I thought. Never expect too much, or else thou shalt be very, very disappointed indeed!
Luckily, the pudding was not too bad. The reputation of English cooking was saved for that day, and my mood improved, especially since it came accompanied with some nice beer. I don’t normally drink in the afternoon, so my head had a nice buzz to it, as I got into the train to make my way back to the friend’s den!