Harrowgate

Harrogate

 

It was a rather late start getting away from Susan's place on Wednesday morning. Things contrived to delay us. Firstly there was the laundry which we'd hurriedly done last night; some of it needed ironing before packing and our bags needed a major re-sort from the jumbled disarray they'd achieved in barely 5 days.

 

downtown Harrogate

In addition John needed to sort out our phone sim cards. Both were showing no credit despite the fact that they'd been loaded with twenty pounds credit each. John became increasingly frustrated on the phone to the call centre help desk and in the end they hung up on him . Fine! No phones then. Even more: the new GPS that John had ordered over the internet the first day we arrived in the UK still hadn't arrived either despite promising three day delivery. Great!

 

So with no phones, internet, GPS or maps we set off to Harrogate anyway (John: Harrogate – north, isn’t that enough!). It was some miles before John's jaw unclenched. Relax .... we're on holidays (but holidays are such hard work).

 

We sped along the A1 towards our destination. John says UK drivers are ever so much more polite than Aussie ones. Well at least no one road raged us as we've come to expect in Queensland.

 

Harrogate hove into view at lunch time and we managed to find a car park on the edge of the town centre. Harrogate is lovely! You can smell the wealth as you drive in past the gorgeous old buildings and Royal spa baths. Or maybe that smell is the sulphurous water dispensed at the Royal Pump room. It’s said to be very good for flatulence - preventing it, not creating it!

 

Cafe Rouge

We went off in search of a restaurant to eat and found a Cafe Rouge. This was a French establishment (at least the waiter was French) which served very tasty victuals to warm our hearts. Their salted caramel ice cream with hazelnut tuille was to die for.

 

the food's not bad

Sated, we could now get down to the serious business of getting maps and a phone card that actually works. While John dealt with that, Barb wandered around the town exploring the shops. Yay! Happiness! Success for John re- phone. He is restored to connectivity courtesy of a very nice Vodafone man who affected to disbelieve his date of birth when taking down details (John: does the fact that I was delighted by his smoothness mean I am, er, getting old?).

 

We managed to get lost trying to find a way out of town to The Old Swan Hotel where we were booked to stay overnight despite having a map in hand. Navigator Barb lost the plot. We eventually gained the sanctuary of the hotel. It's olde worlde charm won us over. It reminded us very much of our stay at the Carrington Hotel in Katoomba last year. This hotel’s claim to fame is that it’s where Agatha Christie escaped to when she found out her husband was a philanderer (the beastly cad!). Who knows …. maybe we slept in the same room she composed here next revenge murder mystery.

 

John unpacks the hire car at The Old Swan

Barb at The Old Swan Hotel

The bad news is that the weather has begun to sour. It's rainy and cold again just as we're headed to Scotland. Bum.