Leaving East Anglia, we went through Lincolnshire (which I learnt is as flat as a witche's t.t). The Germans would compare that to Ostfriesland, which is so flat that people can see already on Wednesday who is coming to visit them on the following weekend ;-).
The roadsigns left me believe to be in the States: from Denver to Boston and then to Lincoln.
Arriving in Lincoln, EG's first words were: "shopping is the last I came for". Any woman would understand that this meant: WE are not spending any money! This did last for exactly 3 minutes because then a shop named "Greenwoods" popped up and the '70% off' sale sign inspired Mr. EG - "only having a quick look in my preferred outfitter's". ---- The pair of jeans fitted too well to leave it there and the black shirt with wing collar for 5 £, the very last, did want to change country. And on top of that Mrs. EG convinced EG that he HAD to rescue this wonderful soft cashmir coat as it cried out loudly to want to travel with EG to Russia when it is cold again. So here we have it.
I must confess that -back in the car- I was highly impressed by the way how quick this sales man in the shop got his tape measure round EG's waistline and at the same moment snipping fingers and ordering the assistant to get the right size blazer out in order to try the coat on a speechless EG. The only word of the sales man was: Fits you like a glove, Sir. Luckily, Greenwoods is a Gentleman's outfitter.
We spent some more money for an exquisit coffee at the ANGEL, a coffee shop which was in a wee church and then we left Lincoln.
Having passed the Humber Bridge (first time for me to cross it) we came through Beverly (Hills?).
The minster is very inviting, somebody important had his funeral and we could listen the music from the organ.
Beverly shows large paintings (obviously weather resistant copies) on all kind of places in the town and explains the picture's story and who painted it.
We went down the "Friar's Street" but soon turned back to the car as the noises of the nearby kindergarden left us almost deaf.
Arriving in Scarborough, this lovely lady welcomed us. My grandmother called Queen Victoria "grandmother" - due to the relation between the royal houses.
I had had a very romantic idea of Scarborough, perhaps because of the famous song and all the history around.
But when we came down to the seaside, I was so disappointed! It all remembered me of some kind of Blackpool, perhaps mainly due to all these bright colourful flickering neon lights.
And the weather was not really inviting and the wind was chilly. So we quickly had the desire to find a warm and cosy place in order to sit down for an "apéritif" before we would search for some food.
The first place was a real harbour pub and we did not stay long.
But then we found "à notre guise" and it needed some cider for me to get tuned in into the Yorkshire accent :-))). After a while we were chatting with everybody in there and also managed to integrate the Spaniards from the next table. When we watched the clock and found we should try to find something to eat, then another one paid for a round and so it went on and on and I was deeply astonished to hear (for the very first time) the ship bell ringing for "LAST ORDERS, PLEASE!"
We then were asked to meet everybody next day in Whitby...