The road to Yorkshire is thick with the past now, mostly built up over a decade of summer Shakespeare at Sprite. Parts of the A1 will always have colorful memories attached to colorful times.

Late night midsummer post show rushing to London for an audition and I’m breathalysed at 4 in the morning 7 months into a sober year. “When did you have your last drink, sir?” “December the twenty third, officer.” “Blow into this tube please.”

Many a meal in many an OK Diner and they were ok. That angry hitchhiker and he wasn’t. Phil and I convinced we wouldn’t get back in time for the show while playing Daft Punk and driving at 100mph every time he stopped looking at the speedometer. Quiz time with Jack. Guess the song with Phoebe as we sailed into London with the dawn. Fiercely competitive games of HORSE with Jo…

Now I’m yo-yoing up and down to Tennants trying to excavate my flat, accompanied brilliantly by Lou, sharing time and this part of the world with her.

This time the car is not overloaded. A table and some bits and bobs really. Nothing much compared to some trips.

I need to collect things and bring them back though, which is part of the deal. Some of my lots didn’t sell. Now I can keep them happily in the knowledge that they aren’t worth loads so it won’t matter when I kick the shelves down in the night by mistake. And until then, they’ll bring a smile to my face.

Meanwhile Lou and I get to experience the sleepy and not so sleepy towns between London and Leyburn.

Today we stopped in Northamptonshire and ate at a little pub by the canal – they were extending the eat out to help out scheme into September – and quite right as well considering I only got about 4 tortellini. Fifty percent of the food for fifty percent of the price. I can say with certainty that I won’t be going back there, because I can’t remember where the hell it was anyway and I only found it when I got hangry and shouted at my phone “show me good pubs to eat at near me”.

We arrived in Harrogate for evening, and as has become traditional, we went for dinner with our host. A fucking wonderful curry from Cardamom Black. If you’re anywhere near Harrogate it’s worth the drive. And I’m counting New Zealand in that. Yum.

I’m writing this in post prandial torpor, sitting on the floor of our little attic room. I have a feeling movement is about to get restricted again so I’m rushing this trip so I can keep up my side of the relationship with Tennant’s Auctioneers. I have a feeling this will continue to develop into a fruitful and long standing partnership. Plus it’s a good excuse to regularly get to Yorkshire. I do love it here.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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