It’s mine and Lynda’s very good fortune to have a wonderful circle of friends and family with whom we share many good times and sadly but mercifully rare, some bad ones too. Our photo albums, computer hard drive and indeed these pages are all testimony to the brilliant fun we’ve enjoyed with our nearest and dearest. It’s also our extremely good fortune that a very agreeable number of those we clasp closest to our bosom either live in or own property in some delightful locations, either in the UK, abroad or in some cases both. In fact I think I’ll make it a rule from now on – You want to be our friend? Well, show us your property portfolio first.
I joke, honest.
The latest addition to our expanding choice of ‘Great places to stay with friends and family’ nestles very nicely in the East Riding of Yorkshire, it being where Rowena and Rollie (or R&R as we lazily refer to them collectively) have chosen to make their home from home. The ink from R&R’s signatures had barely dried on the deeds and already, foolishly some would say, they opened their door, spare bed, fridge and drinks cupboard to us for a long weekend.
The car loaded up, fully fuelled and tyre pressures checked we left the house mid-morning on the Friday and had a very pleasant journey in thankfully free-flowing traffic. As we drove into the village we knew straight away we were going to like it. It’s very idyllic; its centre dominated by a beautiful, stream- fringed church, opposite which, as is the case in most English villages, sits the pub. The village, picturesque enough as it is, on that particular day was further enhanced by being bathed in the late summer sunshine. As we parked the car outside the house, the front door opened and out stepped Rowena and a waggly-tailed Daisy to greet us. Rowena & Rollie were fortunate enough in not only finding a perfectly positioned and appointed home, but also one that needed almost nothing doing to it before they moved in their bits and pieces. Clearly though they’d very worked hard in the short time they’d had the house to get their furniture and other possessions in, and to stamp their personalities on it. After we unloaded the car and had a guided tour we sat for a while drinking coffee, chatting and soaking up the afternoon sun in the cosy and very individually landscaped garden.
Lynda & Daisy in the garden pre-walkies
The village centre
Rollie was still at work and so we took advantage of the time before he got home to take Daisy for a walk through the village and into some of the beautiful surrounding countryside. At one point we were able to see across to the Humber Estuary and the Humber Bridge, a quite spectacular and unexpected sight. We’d only been in the village for a couple of hours but already Lynda and I felt as relaxed as being on holiday.
Once Rollie was home the champagne cork was popped and the weekend really got underway. R&R had put a good deal of thought into an itinerary for time together and after draining our glasses and a spot of fabulisation we were on our way to dinner in Market Weighton (pronounced weeton I’m assured) for dinner, borne in the leather cosseted luxury of Rollie’s new car. The four of us love Indian food and in choosing The Bengal Brasserie R&R had made sure we weren’t disappointed. www.bengal-brasserie.com
After what was a rather excellent meal (superb chom-chom) we left the restaurant and took a stroll up the High Street to take a look at a statue that Rollie was particularly keen to show us of one of the town’s most celebrated sons. We made many quite silly guesses as to who it might be but were way off the mark. It turned out to be a life-sized statue of William Bradley (1787-1820), who at twenty years old stood a staggering seven feet and nine inches tall and weighed twenty seven stones. He was in fact Britain’s tallest ever man and still immensely respected in the town. A date for your diaries; the next Market Weighton ‘Giant Bradley Day’ will be held on Sunday 30th May 2010. www.wicstun.com/giant.html
Saturday morning was once more beautifully sunny, perfect for our planned trip into Beverley. Apart from it having a race course Lynda and I knew nothing of the town and so were looking forward to exploring it. We were really taken with the place. Beverley is a lovely old and traditional market town with lots of history and historic buildings, including the fabulous Minster, which that day was hosting at least two weddings, both of which were going on as we arrived. Saturday is also one of Beverley’s market days, Wednesday being its other, and the market was in full swing as we arrived.
Only there a fortnight but Rollie's already established a foothold
Beverley, its market & Lynda - all glorious in the sunshine
Once again we were really impressed by the market both for its variety of offerings and for the very reasonable prices. After a spot of shopping that included four of the largest pasties we’ve ever seen – ‘Phat Boys’ as they’re appropriately named – we walked through more of the shop-lined streets (closed to traffic which was great) to the Minster. Because of the weddings we couldn’t go inside but that’s something we’d definitely like to do on another trip. Leaving the Minster we decided to find a nice bench in the glorious sunshine on which to see-off our monsters of pastry and meat. By chance Lynda spotted a sign for picnic tables pointing down a side road. We were delighted to find the sign referred to the YHA, which here was a beautifully restored and converted Dominican Friary, dating back at least as far as, and even referred to in the ‘Canterbury Tales’. www.yha.org.uk/find-accommodation/yorkshire-wold-moors-coast/hostels/Beverley-friary/index.aspx
Beverley's Youth Hostel - lucky Beverley youths
The lunch polished off and a quick tour around the outside of the Friary taken, we walked back into town to the Kings Head Hotel and a slurp of what Rollie promised us would be a very splendid beer, Jennings Bitter. At 3.5% strength it is, as was perfectly described by our very pleasant barmaid (or whatever it is that we’re meant to call them these days) a good “session beer”. I could see what she meant; it did not disappoint and but for the promise of more champagne back at the house I could easily have seen us staying there a good deal longer. It’s worth having a look at the Kings Head’s website as although they’re not all listed here; they were offering some amazing deals on food, drink and accommodation.
www.marstonsinns.co.uk/Home/hotels/hotel-beverley/kings-head
Beverley's beautiful Minster
From there we walked on to another Beverley highlight, the White Horse, or ‘Nellie’s’ as it’s better known locally. It’s got to be a stopping off point for any trip to or near to Beverley. In the gas-lit snugs and narrow passages you could be forgiven to expect Old Bill Barley, Bill Sikes, Seth Pecksniff or any other Dickens character to appear beer in hand and take a seat nearby. http://www.nellies.co.uk/
We went back home to a very excited Daisy who clearly knew that her lunch and a good walk were on the cards. The sun was still exceptionally warm as once again we rambled across the surrounding countryside; across fields and through woods, stopping occasionally for a bit of a breather and to curse the fact we’d forgotten to pick up the hip flask.
Back at the house we showered and changed and saw-off another bottle of champers, together with a very unusual but very tasty bottle of Blanc de Noir Rosé. The bottle had survived the journey back from R&R’s recent trip to South Africa, but only managed to survive about half an hour from when the cork was extracted. Beautiful it was too.
Forever the Champagne Charlies. Rollie expertly coaxes a cork out and we're very grateful he did
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Dinner that night was another treat. We were booked into the Hotham Arms at Hotham. Rollie had told us the place was very different, indeed bordering on the eccentric and he was spot on. Approaching the pub it appears to be no different from most but once in the car park you can see there’s something that sets this place apart. The first clue that the owners have a bit more imagination than most was when we saw that the walls and trees around the car park are all covered with old enamelled tobacco and cigarette signs, odd nick-knacks like small antique bottles and other unusual make-shift but charming baubles. Adjacent to the main part of the pub is what we guessed is the smokers’ facility; brick built and open-sided but complete with dining table and chairs, chandelier, fireplace and even a television. Inside the pub is much, much more of the same. We were very warmly greeted by who we learnt was the owner, decked out in chef’s whites and looking and sounding right away like someone that we were going to like and was likely to facilitate a very good night out. The walls and shelves are covered with collections of all manner, shape, size and ages, ranging from still sealed reel-to-reel teach yourself French tapes to a Dan Dare ‘Laser’ gun. A bakelite TV set from the early sixties here, a set of encyclopaedia there, all of which looked really interesting and none of which was at all cheesy or modern chain pubby in the least. I found out by chatting to the owner (whose name I’m maddened by being unable to remember – you’ll see why later) that all this stuff is only a fraction of what he’s collected over a lifetime. Mock (I think mock although I wouldn’t be surprised if they were real) Tiffany lampshades hang from the ceiling and bathe the wood panelled walls in a very comfortable, soft light. The menu is excellent and the food superb. The wine list is brilliant, “Red, White or Rosé” the waitress told us. No chateaux, no vintages, just what colour would you like. It wouldn’t suit everyone but it worked well for us. The red was lovely and complimented all four of our main meal choices perfectly. I have to stress here that although drink flowed freely this weekend Rollie was always meticulously abstemious when he was driving or going to have to drive. Silly we often are, stupid he definitely is not.
Part of the amazing interior of the Hotham Arms
The food, drink, service and general bonhomie was top notch, and the place was heaving. Surprising therefore that not only does this place not bother with a website – it clearly doesn’t need one – but googling it produces nothing either. Maybe they want to keep it secret? Apologies for mentioning it here if that’s the case.
After driving back and parking the car we walked to the local and spent a very agreeable hour trying out their wine, beer and coffee before going back to the house for Port (only a small bottle you understand) some Brandy and some pretty damn fine music and chat before falling – literally – into bed. This is why as the time of writing this I do well to remember my own name, let alone that of the splendid landlord of the Hotham Arms.
An understandably very blurred photo - that's how it looked through our eyes too
On Sunday morning, once more perked up by a good night’s snoozing, the smell of bacon enticed me and Lynda from our bed, into the shower and downstairs where Rowena had been working away on a fantastic Eggs Benedict while Rollie set the table. We demolished that in pretty short order and not long after were once again walking in the local area to not only give Daisy some much appreciated exercise but to blow away one or two of our own cobwebs from the night before. The original intention had been to head for Hull a few miles away where there was a weekend of great activity centred on Clippers, something to do with the slave trade and if memory serves some sort of concert. We’d been tipped off however that the place was so full of people that parking and moving about was nigh on impossible so rather sensibly we abandoned that idea. The Red Arrows had been due to do a fly-past, which we ought to have been able to see from where we walked. Whether the dull, cloudy skies that dominated Sunday morning had forced them to re-think their plans or we simply missed it we don’t know, but we certainly didn’t see or hear them.
Back at the house we slumped in front of the Italian Grand Prix while Rowena once again hit the kitchen and whipped up another culinary storm, this time a marvellous ‘Boil in the Bag’ Beef Wellington accompanied by some excellent veg – especially the roasted beetroot – and another of R&R’s excellent South African wines, this time a silky smooth and beautifully rich Shiraz.
With lunch over we realised that all of a sudden so was our weekend. Rowena needed to travel back with us, which meant having to say a really sad goodbye to Rollie. It felt bad enough to Lynda and me leaving Rollie on his own there after such a good time together, so it must have been really hard for Rowena to leave him behind.
It was a really brilliant weekend. We’d had a fantastic time with R&R, whose company is always a treat, and they made sure that we lacked nothing while we were their guests. The food, drink, and trips out were all perfectly planned and executed and we enjoyed every single moment of the three days together. It’s really nice that we’ve seen their house and the village so that we can visualise it all when we’re back home and talking and emailing with them. It also confirms once again our long-held belief that the UK is as good as anywhere in the world for a holiday. It has its faults no doubt, but it also has history, beauty and character in spade-fulls. Helps when the sun’s shining on it too.
Thanks so much to R&R for everything; we hope we haven’t put you off having us again! It was an honour to be your first guests chaps – much appreciated.
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