A Grand Day Out

Occasionally, I realise that we haven't been out of the city in ages. Usually when I start becoming frustrated for no apparent reason with my fellow Loiners; when I start cursing about the city council, the public transit system, the rubbish collection...taxes... - when I offer Nasser an uncomfortably clear picture of exactly how crotchety I'll be in fifty years. So yesterday, we had a grand day out. In spite of knowing about this day for well on four weeks, I still managed to get caught out on some details - bus schedules notably!

The greatest thing about not quite planning enough is the surprises. There was a festival on in York - of course, to balance that boon, it was half-term and the city centre was crawling with children. Obviously I was still suffering from urban-induced crabbiness cause the kiddies were alright really. It might have been the sunshine, my delicious cheese-leek-and-bacon pasty, or the thrill of being out and about but I could see, briefly, how children might be amusing - not to have around for any stretch of time but at least not constantly grating. We watched Jorvik Viking Centre's display of Celtic combat techniques and a group of singers from Zimbabwe; walked around looking at expensive boutiques and market stalls; cast our usual admiring eye over the Minster and then tried to find the bus...

I should have mentioned that the object of our travels was Coxwold - specifically, Shandy Hall, former home (obviously!) of Laurence Sterne and currently the temporary writing retreat of Kenneth Goldsmith, conceptual poet and performance artist. I should also add that our whole day was thanks to Nasser's supervisor, who gave Nasser his tickets to the day, which comprised poetry readings, a book-sale-cum-fundraiser for Shandy Hall with donated items from various artists, and the screening of Sucking on Words, a film by Simon Morris about Goldsmith's work.

I should also mention that Coxwold is very nearly impossible to get into and out of - especially on the weekends. Shandy Hall suggests that it is a 'value day out for the whole family'. If I budget in train fares, bus fares + the frustration of doing that with a child, let alone more than one, the only value would exist in leaving them all there while I ran, stark raving mad, over the moors back to the city. Of course, the bus driving straight through Coxwold NOT STOPPING until 1 and 1/2 miles past the village, was a bit of an unanticipated set-back.

But there is, in all things, something to balance, if we take the time to look. In this case, it was hard to miss. By driving straight through Coxwold, the bus-driver had unwittingly shown us Byland Abbey - something we would never have seen had we stopped, as planned, in Coxwold. We also saw the Kilburn White Horse (when we were walking back to Coxwold, we couldn't see it to get a picture, alas). Okay, so we've seen enough abbey ruins to become rather immune to them. But they are always good for a moment of reflection.

So we made it to Coxwold - I really can't recommend our way as something to emmulate. Grass verges are not meant for walkers. Shandy Hall is lovely and old and the poetry readings were very provoking. Kenneth Goldsmith - whom Nasser had had the pleasure of meeting during the week at York Uni - is charming and lovely; as are the scholars, poets, and interested/interesting folk who attended. Nasser was in his element - and it was so wonderful to see how excited and engaged academics and practioners are about the ideas and texts he is working on (which I knew was amazing - but I was always going to say that...).

The moors at night are dark and quiet - the kind of dark and quiet that I've quite forgotten living in Leeds. Coxwold is - literally - a crossroads, a church, and a village hall. As a writing retreat, it would be heaven. As a permanent home...well, I go back and forth on this one. I love the peace and quiet - but there are no amenities - and by that I mean anything (no newsagents!) - but I would hate to have to walk into the churchyard to get a signal on my mobile (it's true...). And I think Nasser might go mad or possibly go native and start wearing tweed and wellingtons and carrying a walking stick everywhere.

On the way home we managed to get a free ride from Thirsk to York and smoothly on home. Which was good and capped the day nicely. Pancakes for breakfast - and dinner at a friend's tonight - and we're pretty set up for the rest of the week...!