Burma! Egypt! Malaya!
Hang on, wrong song. That was from Sweet Banana. Let me start again.
Masham! Bedale! Leyburn!
That’s where Schatz and I were at the end of August.
It had been over a year since Schatz and I had been in England (Redcar, Saltburn and Whitby – the North York Moors area). Now it was time to show Schatz the Yorkshire Dales.
A smooth flight from DUS to Leeds Bradford Airport, preceded by a McDonalds breakfast at DUS. (I must admit, I do like their muffins and their coffee. Their branch at DUS does make a useful “office” for doing paperwork.)
Our taxi picks us up on time. We head through the country roads to our hotel in Masham. (A point on pronunciation. It’s “Mass ’em,” not “Mash ’em.”) We arrive at reception. For the first time in years, I do not have to spell my surname. The receptionist says, “I live in that village.”
Our room: nice and cosy. Lovely double duvet, lots of biscuit by the kettle. By now it is 4pm. Schatz and I have not eaten since our mid-morning McAttack.
Wir haben Hunger.
We stroll off to the market square via the local supermarket. I stock up on Ibuprofen: 90% of the price in Germany. (I repeat this procedure several times over the weekend. Why pay a fiver, when you can pay 46 pence?)
The fish’n’chip restaurant is not open for another 30 minutes. It’s a hot, rather humid day. Schatz has been dieting successfully this year. Nonetheless I ask if she would like an ice cream from Bah Humbugs. Brymor ice cream. Made from Guernsey cow’s milk. She says yes. I bring her a cone with two big scoops of:
- Black cherry whim-wham
- Rhubarb and custard
I get myself black cherry whim-wham and chocomint. Delicious.
Normally we would eat pudding after a meal. But needs must.
Harry’s fish and chip restaurant. Schatz and I chat in German while looking through the menu. (We know already what we are going to order, anyway.)
This is what we ordered. British food p0rn…
I also ordered curry sauce and onion rings to accompany. Our plates were clean by the time we finished.
A waddle around the Market Square and then back to our hotel via the local fruit shop to buy postcards (and to buy postage stamps – the post office had closed months before, much to the locals’ chagrin).
Back to our hotel room. We flop out on the bed for “a quick lie-down before we go down to the bar.”
Twenty minutes later, Schatz is in her night clothes under the duvet. I am watching The Sweeney, 1970’s cops’n’robbers show on TV. Schatz is now comatose. I watch another episode of The Sweeney.
- You’re nicked!
I get a second wind. (I blame the onion rings.) Lamy fountain pen out. Postcard to Schatz’ parents. Another to our church organist, caring for her dad in Surrey. Another to Grasshopper. I get dressed. Off to the postbox in town. Via the supermarket for more Ibuprofen. Leg stretch time. I bring back Nachos and dip for Schatz, who is now awake.
We munch our Nachos. It’s been a very pleasant day in Masham.
Have a black cherry whim-wham day, won’t you!