Sunday, 2 February 2014

A Town Called York

A good train trip will consist of good music, good company, hot tea and tickets sticking haphazardly out of the backs of the seats.

And a really excellent train trip will end at the town of York.

Everyone at some stage in their existence has wanted to live in a castle. I have. And what a better way of grasping at this childhood fantasy then tasting just a touch of the medieval town of York.

The outskirts are rather deceiving with their unimpressive buildings and monotonous streets. Completely misguiding.

When you hit the walls you'll understand what I mean. The moment i saw the large medieval walls encircling the entire inner city of York I was enchanted. When I hear people describing things they 'love' I tend to listen out for the embellishments, for signs of those rose tinted glasses, but while donning my own pair of metaphorical rose glasses I cannot critique this city.

Within the entirety of my trip, and I do say this a lot and it will be said in the future, York was one of the most magically enchanting places I visited.    

The York Minster itself was on a scale too large to be wholly captured by camera.

Navigating York can send you 'round the twist though, every which way we turned we somehow ended back in the same place and not where we were hoping to be spat out. Makes for an entertaining adventure however frustrating.  

Wandering around a place like York makes you perpetually happy and suddenly through this happiness logic is seen where insanity was previously. Like the logic of eating ice cream during an English winter. It's so cold it won't melt and therefore you are able to savor the taste much, much longer...while your fingers slowly become frostbitten. Logic at its finest.  
Medieval walls surrounding York

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