staycation

We had one of those notorious “staycations”. Camping in Yorkshire. The campsite was in Glaisdale, this being a tiny village in the nook of the North Yorkshire moors. I say campsite. Really it was just a small patchwork of fields huddled around a few stone built farm buildings.

It is ruled by well meaning octogenarian martinet. She had festooned the whole site with impromptu signage warning that you transgress at your peril. It was everywhere. Everything had a sign, with a punishment to match.

She spotted me sketching and I was cornered. Once she was satisfied I was not checking up on her from the council I was marched into the house to see her dads drawings. After the tour was complete she insisted on showing me what she was most proud of. Even more than dads drawings! A framed certificate which was presented for winning a gooseberry competition. On closer inspection I noticed it was dated. Dated 1944! I could help feeling a little scared.

After escapingI painted a picture of nearby Robin Hoods Bay.Lovely place too.

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