So...

We've taken two years to get through one summer.

You're a shame, Shem. I know ("like any Etrurian Catholic Heathen, in their pinky limony creamy birnies and their turkiss indienne mauves...").

So Beamish is a peculiarity. I said so already. Because it seems, like so many reproduction representations, to neatly neatly edit out those bits and pieces unfit for human consumption (consumption being one of them) and i put my foot firmly in my mouth (bloody stupid American) in saying how surprised i was at how nice (my own word too) the cottages were--i hadn't expected. Well what's the use and what's the truth?

I'm still of the opinion of coal being dirty evil, damn straight. No matter how red you paint the barn, it's still a cow's shithouse. But we're moving on: that was a stopover to look inside old coalmines, but sentimentalized for us darling travellers, and meets some horses and cows and pigs (did we all watch "All Creatures Great and Small" as children, or was that only me?).

What comes next? Oh, Durham. Yes, that'll do. That was the early walk and the reliquaries (so desperation sets in: you'll understand in the fullness of time).

Pax.