York Trip

As some of you might know, Stephen attends York St. John University, located an hour to an hour and a half from his home in Bradford, and about the same distance (probably a little bit closer to the two hour mark) from my university in Sunderland. The week prior to moving up to Sunderland, I bugged Stephen to take me up to York so I could so some sight seeing and shopping (you caught me, I didn’t take my camera – you know I was there to shop!). Our day was the adventure, which is really the only reason I’m relating it to you, as it did not have an abundance of sightseeing.

Our day started well enough – we were up early, had some breakfast and were taken to Shipley (a smaller, more convenient station) by Stephen’s Mum. Once we arrived at the station however, our troubles began. Stephen thought we were in great earnest, and decided it was best if we sprinted to the ticket office so we didn’t miss the train. With frantic thoughts in our minds we ran up two flights of stairs, over the tracks, down two flights of stairs, and across the parking lot to arrive breathlessly at the ticket office. Stephen ordered us two tickets for Leeds and we paid while the tickets printed. Note the inconsistency: Leeds. Leeds is not York. As it goes, Leeds is where you change trains to get to York. Stephen quickly explained his mistake to the ticket-master, and is told that we can simply extend our tickets when we get to Leeds. We enjoy a peaceful ride to Leeds, where we exit the platforms to go to the ticket office and straighten ourselves out.

Tidbit for you: when you exit a platform at a train station in the UK, you put your ticket to that destination in a terminal that opens its doors to let you out. There are a good few of these terminals so at peak traffic hours no one is held up. Keep this information in mind, you’ll need it soon.

When we get to the ticket station in Leeds, the extension of our tickets seems to be no trouble at all, just a lengthy project. Just as the woman prints off our tickets, she takes a closer look at our “incorrect” tickets. She proceeds to tells us that we need both of the tickets we incorrectly purchased in Shipley for our new tickets to be valid. Cue looks of horror from Stephen and myself. Why? Refer to tidbit above.

Returning back to the terminals, we find two young men who let us through and open the ticket compartments for us to manually search for our tickets. I wish I were kidding. We go through tickets from four terminals and manage to find Stephen’s ticket, but not my own (I found his, just in case you were wondering). One steward notices our discouragement and takes us to the head of security who simply tells us to explain the situation to the ticket keepers on the train. Why couldn’t the lady at the desk have told us to do that? Too easy.

When all our train shenanigans were over and done with, Stephen and I headed to the city centre in York so that I could get my shop on. My highlight of the day, however, was when we finally stopped for lunch, which I believe was at about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. Stephen insisted that he had to take me to Betty’s Tea Room. For those of you who do not know, Betty’s Tea Room is one of the major attractions of York, there is consistently a line to get a seat. We were going to go earlier, closer to noon, but the line was quite long and we weren’t very hungry yet. When we did finally decide to go, we only had about a fifteen-minute wait. Okay, correction, I had a fifteen-minute wait while Stephen went to go get a snack from another store. Regardless, we queued as the British love to do, and when we got to the front of the line were told we would be seated downstairs. This was a stroke of luck for us because Stephen had told me beforehand that it is the downstairs he wanted to show me.

After receiving our menus and looking at the prices (let me warn you, they are high! If you are going to eat at Betty’s, make it a snack, not a meal – unless you’re rich, then you can eat all you want!), Stephen told me to follow him toward the bathrooms. In between the gents and ladies’ toilets there is a mirror wall. This wall has been preserved since the Second World War. On this wall are names of men from several different battalions who had visited Betty’s while they were stationed abroad. Apparently the do of the times was to bring your steady and have a spot of tea. I was overcome with nostalgia (it must be a collective nostalgia, for how can I remember the War?) and started to tear up, thinking that maybe my Grandfather had visited here before he went to France.

Stephen and I learned so much about the history of Betty’s (we stayed at least an hour and a half, talking to hostesses and waitresses about the food, the beverages, the history) and I came away feeling like my day was not just about spending money. It was a treat to be able to step back in time and fully appreciate the simplicity of an English lunch.

So, that’s it for this post! I just wanted to relate our silly adventure story, and to leave you with a heart warming bit at the end about a place where I really recommend anyone and everyone to go. As I have noted, it is expensive, but if you keep that in mind when you plan on visiting and you have a snack beforehand, you can still enjoy the atmosphere and delightful food and drink!

Take care!

Love,

Janean X