Ticket Home? What Ticket Home? – Day Two in North Yorkshire

I spent a lovely evening and had a badly needed good nights sleep at Peter and Anne’s farmhouse. Not sure if I was in the 15th or 19th century part of the house. The MacNamara’s don’t have WiFi, so I used their computer to check my email and update my Facebook status. It is then that not only are we two countries separated by a common language, but also by a common keyboard. I mean it was QUERTY, but there were just enough keys in different places so as to make touch typing a real nightmare.

After breakfast, I decided I would spend the day with dad and Lee so I could see some of the places I wasn’t sure I could hike to. We went to Brimhan Rocks, where I used to love to have dad take my brother, myself and our friends to go exploring and play hide and seek. As an adult, it doesn’t seem like quite the “kid safe” playground you’d have your kids run around.

We had lunch in the Dales, valley village of Pately Bridge and then did a bit of driving around the Harrogate side of The Dales and around RAF Menwith Hill Station where dad was stationed. A “Royal Airforce Base” with not so much as helipad, but a lot of large golf balls, dog dishes and a field of antenae. I quickly took some pictures out of the windows of the moving car so as not to attract the attention of the people with the black helicopters, not that they’d be able to land at Menwith Hill.

That night, Peter and Anne took us to dinner at there friends, Ron and Jacinta(?). They were lovely and had great conversation. My dad regaled them with the stories of his various car accidents, after which I’m surprised either Lee or I ever got in the car with him again. Fortunately, Anne was driving that night.

At some point Peter and Anne gave us a tour of their house and grounds, 3 acres isn’t bad in the UK, although a large chunk of it is taken up by a sheep pasture he rents to a local farmer. By the way, does everyone live on a golf course?

The manor house dates back to the 15th century, with a major addition, pretty much a doubling, in the 19th century (I believe, may be wrong). So the house is a real mismatch. Interior doors where exterior windows used to by, stairwells where there were none.

Peter also believes that one wall of the 15th century portion may actually be a wall of a medieval tower. There’s also one beam in the house that Peter believes was recycled from a medieval structure.

They have a stone lined well, which I guess is rather unusual. Most of the wells in the area are brick lined. They used to dig them by taking wagon wheels, removing all but three spokes, placing it on the ground and digging within it. The mason would build the brick lining on top of the rim of the wheel and the whole thing would sink into the ground as it was dug out.

Peter, being a history professor at York University, engaged in all sorts of interesting conversation with us. At one time we were talking about how confusing English is and he pointed out how it’s a combination of Saxon/German for the common language, French for the aristocracy, Latin for government administration and Greek for learning. What a mess! He pointed out that animal names, such as cow and sheep, come from the Saxon/German, whereas food, such as beef and mutton, come from French.

One thing I’d like to know is why does everyone have separate hot and cold taps? It’s not that hard to combine them. Really.

Also, I gather that central heating is still not standard. When Anne and Peter moved into the farmhouse 15 years ago it was still heated by coal fires in each room and Ron specifically pointed out that they had central heat. That’s something I’d sort of assume in the US unless you were living inn the Unibomber.

'After dinner, Anne gave me a ride to my B&B in Ripon and I’d moved there for the rest of my stay.