From Inverness, I caught the train down to York.
Let me just say, for the record, that I am capable of getting up early. I just really like to sleep. On this rare occasion, I decided to seize the fish, and booked my train for a bright and early 7:55 launch. Well, as it turns out, not so bright. Either me, or the day. When the whole point of your trip is to peer out the window at things, it often helps if the sun is around to illuminate them.
From somewhere near Perth (the up-top one, not the swan-y down-the-bottom one that no-one bothers to visit), the trip was lovely. I sat. I peered.
Actually, I also geeked the fuck out. I set up Jane, so she could GPS me all the way along my trip. It was great. I could look in the direction of great sights, even if I often couldn’t see them. Thanks to Jane, I also know that the train got up to 200km/hr, which is damn impressive and explains why I was in York just after lunch.
York is pretty. Big-ass cathedral, pretty town walls. The best cream tea I had on the island of Britain. Sweet little streets. I actually think I need to head back to do some of the surrounding area – Bronte country, Dracula country etc.
From York, I detoured through Leeds and Manchester to Chester, another cute little town with walkable walls. In the 1800s, they converted the imposing defensive walls of Chester to a ‘promenade’, so I promendaded my way all the way around. In one corner are ‘Wishing Steps’. You get to have a wish if you hold your breath while you run up and down and up again. I decided that I wasn’t that superstitious.
ToDo: Invent Brilliant Title 
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