It was still raining when we woke this morning so our planed visit to Snowdonia was canceled, instead we headed off to Yorkshire by going back through the city of Chester and visit a pharmacy and other boring stuff.  But what an unexpected delight. Chester has been a market town since Roman times and on Saturday Market days the area behind the old walls is given over to pedestrians with stalls of all local fresh produce, bread, cheese and Belgian waffles with cream and chocolate sauce.

We spent a happy couple of hours in the Chester cathedral and then exploring the rows of Tudor period shops and a brief wander along the top of the wall to some Roman ruins before heading off to Yorkshire.

Chester cathedral

Café in cathedral refrectory

Cloisters

Chester

Tudor construction 1395.

Tudor detail.

East gate of Chester town walls.

We had less trouble with the satnav today, as town names are shorter, yesterday SHE would say “in two tenths of a mile, take the  second exit on to the B2064 towards LLandofthegobblinswillinglocalale.” by which time you had missed the turn and it was 20 miles to come back. Besides who knows how far two tenths of a bloody mile is any more.

We did have some trouble with HER again before finding our B&B, Far Moorside Farm on Coppy Nook Lane which deteriorates into a goat track that she chose to ignore as being beneath HER dignity to even think of it as being worth considering.

It is such a delight, nearest neighbour half a mile away, view across the moors and dales that  go on forever in all directions and the only other guest asleep on the couch after a friendly woof of greeting.

Far Moorside Farm

Our nearest neighbour

The nearest Pub? The “Shoulder of Lamb”.

Sunday Roast? Of course.

Yorkshire pudding?  Is the Pope a Catholic?

And tomorrow is Sunday. Life does not get better than this.

Pete.