‘Ole in Ground

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Have you ever heard someone speak English and thought to yourself,”I have no idea what on earth they just said. Not a clue!”? Maybe you had a cold and your ears were blocked, maybe the TV was on and you didn’t quite catch the words. Or maybe it wasn’t what you expected to hear or the speaker wasn’t a native English speaker. Whatever the case, particularly if you are married, I’m sure you can relate!
My cousins Sue and Andrew (Aussies) live in Ilkley, an idyllic village in the north of England. It is famous for the broad hills and winding valleys of the Ilkley Moors, part of the larger area of the Yorkshire Dales. And there lies our language problem. Yorkshire. The nicest people, in the nicest part of England, speak the worst of the Queens language. Having just come through the middle of Europe, we had better sign language exchanges than some of the efforts in Yorkshire!
For instance, we happened across a lovely gentleman in York, once the seat of English royalty. We were struggling to find our bearings and he hobbled across to us and mumbled what we thought was a friendly greeting. We smiled and responded with a bright hello. He then repeated what he said before. I knew this because the pattern and tune of his sentence were the same. That’s right, the tune. It wasn’t a greeting, he was asking where we were trying to get to! It took some effort to detach the ‘music’ from the ‘lyrics’ but we got there in the end. What a remarkably nice man, but I was wishing for subtitles!
We love Yorkshire, having been to Sue and Andrew’s previously on our first European adventure in 2013. In a tangible sense it’s like stopping off home for a bit of a recharge, not that it’s at all like Perth or Freo. Apart from being with family, somewhere in the depths of our being our heritage calls and we relax in the company of the similar, both relational and cultural. For those of you who have visited countries of distant family origin, I’m sure you understand.

There is so much history, triumphant, humourous and disturbing, in Yorkshire. We explored York on Easter Sunday, finishing with the Evensong at York Minster. The grandeur, choir, pipe organ, and religious pomp and ceremony made it an unforgettable Easter. And the message too! Revelation 1, John’s vision of the glorified Christ, delivered by the Venerable David Butterfield, Canon Residentiary, who spoke not just from the Book, but also the heart. A fellow brother indeed.

York Train Station

Standing on the York City wall with Sue. Built in Roman times, 3.4km of it still stands.

The Shambles, an area of medieval streets in York with overhanging half-timbered houses.

York Minster

Choir practice before the Evensong Service.

We also spent some time in Skipton, a very scenic historic market town, and drove out to Windemere in the Lakes District. What a treat! The scenery of dense forest surrounding Victorian villages, perched around sparkling expansive lakes was surprisingly English! I expected bare hills and pastie-skinned locals both ensconced around a muddy ‘ole in ground. I found the aforementioned locals but the wooded hills were radiant in the new shoots of Spring, and the clear, deep lakes were inviting for all manner of water sports. It would be a great place for a summer holiday, something we would love to try when we come back again….