Thirsk, Felixkirk, and York

Wednesday March 26, 2025

We began the day with the remarkable bread we picked up yesterday, thickly spread with butter and Tiptree cherry jam. Where has cherry jam (this good) been all my life?

The shower here is the weirdest one yet. It looks promising – a big rain shower in the ceiling – but then you read the instructions. To operate the hot water pump, turn the shower on full, then turn the hot water in the sink on, turn the hot water in the sink off, then get into the shower. In the meantime, the shower, which is too big for the cubicle, is spraying water everywhere. Once inside you find that the little holes in the shower thingie are spaced so far apart (and are mostly on the outside edges) you have to pretty much chase them around and everything other than the bits you need to get wet actually get wet. Goodness knows how I’ll wash my hair.

Shower mastered, it’s another blue day, our warmest yet. The birds are twittering away happily in the garden, but when I mention that in a text to cousin Ray, he quips, ‘of course they’re happy, they’re all busy shagging.’ He’s probably right.

We drove out to Thirsk this morning for a look about. Despite the number of times we’ve visited York, somehow we’ve never had a look around Thirsk.

A market town – and a busy one at that – it’s mostly famous for its James Herriott connections. We take a walk around, but don’t bother going into the James Herriott museum.

We’d planned on going back to Helmsley for lunch, but Grant sees a sign for The Carpenters Arms, so we turn off and head down the single lane road to find a fantastic pub in a bucolic village, Felixkirk.

As you’d expect from the name, the village is named after the church dedicated to St Felix.

(The wren on the church gate looks to be by Robert (The Wrenman) Hunter, the last surviving craftsman from The Mouseman workshops… and if you’ve read my Philly Barker novels you’ll know all about The Mouseman.)

Anyways, the pub here is a real find. Grant had a steak ciabatta and I chose the chicken, leek and tarragon pie. It is, I’m calling it, the best pub lunch we’ve had yet. The kale, cabbage saute that goes with it is a side I need to replicate when we go home. [Update, we have this a lot now.]

Lunch over, we headed toward York, parked at Rawcliffe Bar park and ride, and caught the bus into the city. I’ve told you about York before (here, here and here) so we weren’t there to do the touristy bit today. Even so, this is my favourite city, so obviously I still took pics.

York has been developing quite a reputation as a Harry Potter town of late, and there are now plenty of magic-inspired retailers. My favourite is the Yorkshire ghost store. I’ve been following them on Instagram for a while (@yorkghostmerchants) but was disappointed to see scaffolding around their store.

After a wander through the Shambles, and the usual look in the usual shops (Imaginarium, that tweed shop I love but never buy anything from, The White Company), we made our way to Betty’s, timing it perfectly and getting a table downstairs immediately. (When we came out at 4 pm, there was a queue again.)

We shared pikelets, a Yorkshire curd tart, and a rhubarb crumble.

With still a few hours to kill until we met (Grant’s cousin) Beverley for dinner, I stocked up on bras and knickers at Marks & Spencers (too much information?), checked out the antique stores for Philly inspiration and chatted with some of the stallholders at a new artists’ collective store – Fabrication. Then we sat in the Ye Olde Starre Inn over a couple of pints.

Dinner was at Pho in Low Petergate where we ate, wait for it, pho and caught up on family stuff.

After a longish wait for the bus back to the carpark, it was after ten before we got home, so after midnight before I got to sleep.

The stats…

Temperature: 4-16

Miles travelled: 73

*Even though we work in kms in Australia, all signage in the UK is in miles, so that’s what I’m going with.

These posts are taken directly from my travel journal … you can find the series here.