Staithes, North Yorkshire

Late yesterday evening a VW caddy van micro camper arrived. This morning we noted it was from Germany. Only yesterday we commented on how few other vehicles from Europe we'd seen in the past week. Well, anyway, a first for us, the Germans took a small pop up toilet tent out of their roof box, and popped it up in the car park, leaving Angela speechless. And all for nothing. Despite being told by last night's security man we wouldn't be able to access the excellent toilets and showers inside the auction house this morning, we could. With no need to rush this morning, we spent time talking to our neighbours who owned a VW T25, which is on John's, 'yes please I'd like one too' list. They were heading south to Holmfirth, us five miles down the road to the Yorkshire Air Museum at Elvington. Many years ago John visited the museum with his two brothers in-law and father. Sadly, two members of the group are now no longer with us, so for him the visit was very nostalgic. Our main reason to visit the museum was to view the amazing restoration of a Halifax bomber, the only example of it's kind in the world. The visit was particularly poignant as this was the type of plane Johns father trained to become a crew member on towards the end of the second world war, taking up the position of the flight engineer.

After spending an interesting few hours we departed, heading to the east coast, crossing the moors until the bright blue of the north sea appeared in view.

Today was the furthest we've driven in a day since arriving in Yorkshire, Angela didn't really like it, she much prefers the slow pace of walking and driving in the dales. So this evening we are at Staithes, overnight parking is a hefty fifteen pounds, just above the pretty fishing village.

Narrow cobbled streets and quirky cottages lead you down to the harbour. This weekend there is an art and musical festival being held and it was nice to arrive in amongst the revellery. Now we are on Yorkshire's east coast were not sure where to head next. The forecast for Monday is horrendous with heavy rain and very strong winds. We've come here to visit Whitby, but are not sure if we want to continue driving down this coast. So tomorrow some decisions about our onward travel need to be made. Tonight, though we are all cosy in Margery tucked in the corner of the parking area. It would be an ideal spot to pop up a toilet tent. Form an orderly queue please.

York Auction Centre, Murton, York

It keeps raining, which we're not happy about. It's not relentless rain, and the sun always reappears after a while with some stunning rainbows. Yes we know, it's good for the garden, but it's not so good for us if we have to dry wet coats off in Margery. Moaning finished. Back to today. A short drive to York.

Angela wanted to return having visited as a child. She remembers York Minster and how imposing it was, and wanted to revisit that childhood memory. As expected the city was busy, especially with Chinese visitors, all wanting a photograph in front of the magnificent cathedral to share with friends and family online. Not sure if so much posing was really necessary. 

The exterior of the cathedral is undergoing some renovation, so it was not possible to take a really good photograph. Inside though, so much to photograph, including the spectacular organ, which during our visit suddenly fired up filling the Cathedral with a beautiful sound. We felt honoured to have been there at that moment as the sound from the 100 pipes reverberated around us.

All that aside, the day was made even more special when John asked if the cabinet the book of remembrance for those members of the RAF whom fell in the second world war, could be unlocked, and the book opened, so he could see if one or both of his uncles were mentioned in it.

 One was. It was a very special moment. Tonight we are staying in the grounds of York Auction House, Margery and one other.

A twenty minute bus ride took us into the city. Campsites in the area start at £30.00. The cost to stay here £12.00. Showers are available, but we weren't informed that the auction house wouldn't be open at the weekend, and we'd have no access to them. A little annoying. All that aside, today has been an enjoyable day. That's York ticked off the list.

Ripon, North Yorkshire

A keen wind still blew this morning, but at least as the new day washed over us the sun shone. The little campsite on the farm with two toilets and one shower had been a bargain at fifteen pounds. Three vans stayed last night, and we were the first away. Our first visit today, The Himalayan Garden and Sculpture Park just outside Masham. It opened at ten, and we were there at just before, surprised at how busy the car park already was. Hot drinks and scones in the cafe set us up for the walk around the grounds. Besides a variety of shrubs and trees there were ninety sculptures to view. Since leaving the Dales and moving towards the moors, the weather has become wetter.

We appreciated the trees even more when we sheltered under them when the rain fell heavily. Time passed quickly at the gardens, and we were surprised it was well past one o' clock when we returned to Margery. But our day wasn't complete, we still had the Druids Temple to visit fifteen minutes up the road.

The temple set in woodland is an eighteenth century folly, built with no purpose. It was purely built to alleviate unemployment. The afternoon rain became very persistent, but we managed to walk to the folly and back in-between showers. Then on to Ripon where we would once again stay overnight. The parking area by the cathedral was busier than when we were here ten days ago. There are fifteen vans including Margery. Ripon gets it. Let the vans stay. The parking is free overnight. We have spent money in both Lidl and Sainsbury's and also the Weatherspoons where we stopped off for a drink before dinner. It is raining heavily again this evening, but we were able to take a short walk around the town before it started. A sign by an alleyway caught Angela's eye. It read, Lavender Alley. Why is it called Lavender Alley. We don't know! The Yorkshire sense of humour strikes again.