Three Weeks in England

The next day, after another excellent breakfast, we got on the road northeast to the market town of Pickering, where we would get a 2½ hour train ride. We arrived at Pickering in plenty of time to pick up the tickets that we bought online. Vere got a video of the train as it puffed into the station and then we got on the first steam engine train that either of us have ever been on.

Aside from some noisy kids in the next train car, the ride was wonderful with the chuga-chuga-chuga-chuga of the engine, the clang-clang-clang of the wheels along the rails, the screech-screech of the doors opening and closing between the cars, and the shrill of the horn. We followed along a stream all the way with green fields and trees on either side. We saw a gray crane land in one waterway, a long-horned, red shaggy bull in a grassy meadow, and lots of white sheep always dotted the greenery. We saw a running deer that heard the train and took off leaping across the meadow, but when it saw that the train was going faster than it could, it abruptly changed course and leaped away in the opposite direction. There were lots of pheasants in the fields with their bright striped brown and black feathers in contrast to the green fields.

An hour later we pulled into the small train depot of Goathland. This stop is famous because it appears in the first Harry Potter film, when the students are on their way to Hogwarts. In the movie, the small town was called Aidensfield, but the town is really called Goathland. We walked up the hill from the train station to a restaurant called the Goathland Pub. Vere had a steak and ale pie and I had the Goathland ploughman’s lunch. It came with a large slice of ham on it, which I don’t eat, but I wanted the cheeses, bread and salads. I saw a couple sitting nearby with their dog and got an idea. I got up and asked if they would mind if I gave them the meat to feed their dog. They agreed, and I saw them feed their hound several portions. The dog at one time looked over at me, and the woman said to the dog, “You can thank her, it was her ham.”

Other than eat and go into the tiny store near the depot that had mostly candy, small toys and some Harry Potter items, there was nothing else to do. After an hour, we caught the next train back to Pickering. This time, we were able to enjoy the quiet of a car without children yelling. Even though the weather was overcast, the train ride was fun.

When we returned to Pickering, we decided to go to the Ryedale Museum, which is an open-air museum with buildings of an earlier age. Huts and buildings along a pathway showed early examples of: a blacksmith’s forge, a cobler’s shop, a general store, a chemist’s, a hearse wagon, a miniature of a town, a photographer’s studio, housing, a school, a gray cat among milk cans, a richly furnished manor house, and there was even a tiny, thatched hut that was named the “witch’s hovel.”

At the far end there was the Witch Museum. Signs indicated that at one time there was a “witch” in almost every North Moor village. The museum showed tokens and sigils, handwritten spell books, magic cube drawings, talismanic rings, a fox’s tongue charm, a carved stick used to cast out demons, medieval bamboozling board games (though they hardly seemed like they belonged), mid-1600s witch bottles filled with pins and nails, different kinds of stones used to ward off sickness and evil, spinning wheels for weaving spells, and many more items in glass cases.

We looked through the bookstore and I gave the manager a copy of my book, The Blythewood Curse, for consideration to offer for sale.

Then right next door was the Crown pub. We only had to wait fifteen minutes for it to open at 5:00 for drinks and 5:30 for food. While waiting to order dinner, Vere and I each had a blackberry cider, which was quite good. As with other pubs that we had been to, dogs were brought in by their owners. It still seems surprising to see dogs allowed inside every pub, café and restaurant that we have been in. Not sure if I will ever get used to that. The dogs lay at the feet of their owners the entire time we ate and were well behaved.

On the way back to our B&B, we passed through Helmsley again just to see where the bookshop is where I will be book signing on Saturday. We found it right next to the main square. Two windows announced the date of the book signing, and in another the book was shown. Mandy, the owner, had done well to advertise it.