Shem-the-Penman

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

Now we start out on a weeklong tour: York is the first stop. "Come on now, York! Forge ahead." (I kept looking for white roses and i think i saw all of one--i'm a little disappointed...) Mostly we had an afternoon to do as we pleased--sort of a stopover from point to point, getting to Durham later on and with longer there. Nevertheless: one must see the Shambles at least, where there were killinghouses and slaughterhouses and now there are charming little shops and quaint little Tudor buildings all halftimber and leaning over the street with red and pink flowers in the windowboxes. Charming. I was happier in Yorkminster, the cathedral/c

First: today is James Joyce's birthday.  He's 124.  Happy birthday, Jim. Now: Bath, England. Once again, we went en masse via coach to Bath to see Jane Austeny stuff (very popular with some of the other members of the group...less so with me...what can i say?). Actually, as cynical as i'm being, the town is lovely.  The fan vaulting in the abbey is quite representative of that: white stone in arched etched patterns.  All in the Georgian style. The head prof and her husband have a flat there, so we were to explore Bath until about teatime and then turn up at their flat for tea and strawberries and things. Too bad i was almost too ill to m