The Frozen North
This weekend just past, I went oop north to visit my little sister. On the Saturday, she had to work, which was most unfortunate as there was a small matter of rugby to watch, which I did, in a pub, SMSing the scores to her and drinking much fine ale.
Then I wandered around the town, getting mugged by a couple of bookshops, and by some more pubs. I found one, whose name I forget, which actually served drinkable John Smiths!
On Sunday we did more bookshops and pubs and had a nice roast dinner.
There was something weird about York, I couldn't put my finger on it. Then I realised, everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) was white. That's just bizarre. However, even thought there were no Carribean takeaways, no African greengrocers, no Halal butchers - in short, none of the prerequisites of civilisation - I quite liked the town. Pity there's no jobs up there, otherwise I might move.
I came back refreshed, despite the incompetent retards at Virgin breaking my train home.