Windy Moors

The lightening tour of the English North was continuing and I was now in Ilkley.  I didn't have the same time afforded to me as when I was a young backpacker, but I now thankfully had the means with which to take more efficient and fast transport.  It would still have been nice to have had longer, but it was at least one less impediment to visiting friends in far flung places.

This was an opportunity I had wanted for a long time. I had never been outside of London in all my years traveling to the UK, so being able to visit Charlie in his home was the perfect chance to change all of this.  The game in Sheffield had been fun, and the aftermath of it all had probably been even more fun.  We had made our way further North to Charlie and Sian's home in Ilkley where we had a lovely dinner together and then I passed out from a combination of exhaustion and jetlag.

I woke very early the next morning.  The sun hadn't risen yet and there was a mist hanging over the ground.  Charlie clearly heard me rousing and he woke as well and suggested we go up to the local ridge to watch the sun rise.  Jumping in his car, we drove up towards the ridge in the chill of the morning air.  We reached the ridge in no time at all and were soon walking around the moors of Yorkshire.

It was exceptionally beautiful.  As the sun slowly rose, it bathed the entire landscape in a bright golden glow.  The wind was blowing hard and I could feel it cutting through my jacket, but I was enjoying myself.  I wasn't sure if I was annoying Charlie, but since I was standing on a windy moor, I incessantly hummed and sang Kate Bush's song "Wuthering Heights".  It seemed to be the most apt song for the occasion.

We kept walking along the ridge, slowly climbing up to the top of the "cow" which gave us truly incredible view.  We could see all the way across the valley towards the other ridge.  We could even see Charlie's house from this spot.  The air was fresh and clean.  I missed this.  Living in Hong Kong is fun, but one thing that isn't fun is the lack of fresh air.  There's a constantly haze in the air and it never seems to be as fresh as it could be.  Here, I could feel my lungs clearing.

We slowly started to walk down and we met some local friends who were also enjoying the morning.  I was too slow with my camera, but we were also lucky enough to see a grouse as it flew around us.  It landed a few times, but each time I tried to capture the image it immediately flew off at speed.  It seemed to be teasing us.  

Back in Ilkley, Sian had woken up.  The bite of the morning cold was gone and it looked like it would be a nice day.  We changed into nicer clothes and made our way into the beautiful town centre.  The town is a lovely example of a historic old English spa town.  The buildings were grand and the streets all neatly laid out.  We walked around the markets and fairs that were open.  The shops in the town all felt like what you would expect from such a quaint little town as well, full of delicate baked goods and small handmade goods and crafts.  I bought some soaps for Veronica as well as some biscuits.  It seemed to be a good representation of the region.  As it approached lunch, we started walking to the restaurant.  We had a booking for a Sunday roast dinner which I was very excited about.  Being in England on a cold day, nothing felt more appropriate than a nice roast. 

Lunch was delicious as I had hoped.  The idea of a roast dinner seems quite simple, but ever since I was a child it was something I enjoyed.  My parents seemed to develop a fondness for it as well, and it soon became a regular meal in our home.  Here we were in far fancier surroundings and the roast was accompanied by delicately made sides and a bottle of Argentinian red.  

After a very filling lunch and more drinks afterwards, we made our way back to the house.  It was already dark by the time we arrived, with winter approaching fast.  We sat in the living room drinking tea and talking.  We were too full from lunch to think about a substantial dinner and so I went and got the "fat rascal" that I had bought earlier in the day to tide me over before sleep.  It had been a very English day.