Here it is, Easter in the States, in April, and we have a foot of new snow to keep us warm. Dead are the daffodils and the croci. So, in extremis, we...my husband and I...have torn up the net to find any and all photos and conversation about our absolutely fave spot in literally all the world: The Lion.
Since we can't always hang out there, this type of visit must suffice. But you might be glad to know, we do find comfort in our many memories of Blakey Ridge and our home away from home, when we are in UK. We've lost count of the times in our lives when we blew in to the Lion for Theakstons...we have a penchant for Old P, finally available stateside, though rarely pulled. Yes, we always knew other places to enjoy our favorite beer, but nothing matches the atmosphere of The Lion, nor your great hospitality. When we are there, we feel we have somehow come home. (The first time I saw the North York Moors I wept!) I figure we must be Yorkshiremen misplaced by birth.
We both have been fortunate to travel much of the world, but we feel something was missing in the times we did not come home to Blakey Ridge.
Hmmm. Such outpouring tells me it must be time to once more buy a plane ticket......