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More and more visitors from the USA are
making the journey across the "pond" to see for themselves the
breathtaking countryside where their favourite "Last of the Summer
Wine" series is filmed. And who can blame them? The Holme Valley, on
the fringes of the Pennines in West Yorkshire, north England, is a
beautiful area to visit.
 We
are indebted to a recent visitor from America who has kindly supplied
extracts from her journal, as well as photos, which provide a fascinating
insight into a holiday in Holmfirth.
We thank Robin Simpson, of Arkansas, for
her wonderful contribution.
Robin,
who was travelling with her friend Anne used Holmfirth
Web to help plan and book accommodation and other facilities for her
visit. She said "The
beauty of the area is what drew me to Holmfirth, the wonderful way of the
people there is what brought me back."
Extracts
from her Journal
Click here to read Meander
in Marsden
Ramblings: Daydreaming
Drifters
Amble in Holmfirth
The main reason for coming to Holmfirth
on this trip was
photography. That was the official reason, anyway. A reason I didn't
get into a lot before I left was that I was looking forward to spending
more REAL time in the village. When I was there in 2000, I didn't
spend much time in the village itself, since I ended up spending so
much of the little time I had at the end of that trip with the cast and
crew of "Last of the Summer Wine". I only had a couple of
days and
most of that time I spent with them. Not that I'm complaining ... it
was a very special time for me and they all helped me make
memories that will last me a lifetime.
 On this trip, I'd
get to spend some time there ... get to know more
about this place than I had thought I ever would. Holmfirth is one of
many old mill towns in the Holme Valley. Its in a bit of a valley,
surrounded by rolling, emerald hills ... grey-stone buildings that seem
to be stacked up every available hillside ... twisting, winding roads
that lead everywhere and nowhere ... and a sense of community that
doesn't seem breakable. I just thought I'd fallen in love with this
place when I'd been there before ... I was wrong. The fall wasn't
complete and I knew it. But it was coming.
I initially wanted to visit Holmfirth because of the scenery I'd seen on
a British comedy called, "Last of the Summer Wine" (popularly
referred to as LOTSW). Its filmed in and around the valley, although
indoor shots are mostly filmed in studios in London. The beauty of the
area is what drew me to Holmfirth, the wonderful way of the people
there is what brought me back.
Since Anne and I had been doing a lot of driving over the last few
days, we both agreed that a day to amble, not being in any hurry to
do anything, was in order. We parked in a "long term" parking (£2.50
for the entire day) and walked into town.
The stroll from this particular long term car park is through the car
park of the co-op supermarket, over a footbridge that crosses the
River Holme, and through a pretty little garden onto the main road
that goes through town. At first, we just walked around town as I
showed Anne the different points of interest. I showed her the Victoria
Bridge, which was recently renovated under much local controversy ...
the Picturedrome ... and of course, some of the places used to film
LOTSW, such as Sid's Cafe, Nora Batty's and Compo's residences, and
some of the lanes used to film the characters walking along.
The town is full of steep, winding, cobblestoned paths that lead you in
many different directions. Up one of these wonderful passages is
Daisy Lane, which seems to go up an incline of about forty-five
degrees! Up this little lane is an abundance of shops from a tea shop
to a business that deals in leather goods and art. Turns out, there are
a lot of artistic people that settle in this area - painters,
photographers, sculptors, and writers all enjoy the Holme Valley as
retreats and someplace to call home. We came up on Daisy Lane
Books, a FABULOUS bookshop that deals in new and used books. I
was pulled towards the "Local Interest" section and Anne was
pulled
in all sorts of directions. I spied quite a few books that I wanted to
get, but I knew how heavy my bags would be on the way home.
I kept looking (and finding more books) and followed Anne up to the
second floor. There were more books in this one little shop than I'd
ever imagined! The man who owns the shop is an obvious book lover
and enjoys sharing his interest in books with other people. He also
has two pretty black and white cats - one likes the outdoors more
than the other but both are very affectionate!
Anne settled on a few books and as she was checking out, the
shopkeeper asked me, "Didn't you find anything you wanted?" As
soon as I spoke up, he knew I was from out of town (I don't know
HOW they do it!) and we discussed the adventure of carrying them
home. I also needed to make a cash run to the bank before spending
a bunch on books. He told me to pull the ones I was interested in and
he'd hold them for me until I returned. Explaining to him I didn't
know which ones I wanted to buy, he suggested I pull them all and
he'd just put the ones I didn't want back on the shelf. I agreed to that
and I pulled about six or seven books off the shelf and he put them in
a bag with my name on it and put them behind the counter.
We left, thanking him for his time and his kindness and went to amble
a bit more through town. We started to get the pangs of hunger
(although the breakfast we'd had at Uppergate Farm was
INCREDIBLE) and decided to stop at Beattie's for lunch. We had a nice
lunch of sandwiches with a variety of different toppings (sauces) to
add to them. I had to have my required sticky toffee pudding, so I
ordered it here and enjoyed it.
We walked around town some more, me stopping for photos now and
again. I went into the bank and did a cash advance on my ATM/debit
card. You might wonder why I did it this way. Let me explain.
I have a very dear friend who lost her ATM card at a bank in York,
after a wonderful day out a couple of years ago. She was devastated
and it nearly ruined her trip ... it DID ruin her day. Turns out,
somehow, she talked them into letting her get it back, but she didn't
use it the rest of the trip to get cash unless she went into the bank
during opening hours. It didn't cost any more to do it that way than to
use an ATM and there was no chance of the card getting eaten by the
ATM machine. I've had my own trouble with ATM machines and try
not to rely on them for cash.
I was very pleased with the service I got from the lady at the counter
and we went on our way ... back to the bookshop, to be more specific.
I walked in and told the man I'd take the lot. Why not? I've seen
many things I'd wanted to buy and regretted not buying them so I
decided I'd add to my library of books by picking these up. I nearly
fell down when he handed the bag to me - it was SO heavy!
After leaving Daisy Lane bookshop once again, we headed over to the
Summer Wine Exhibition, which is housed inside what at one time
was used as "Compo's" house. The inside is set up like the
inside of
his house, although the filming was done in the London studios. His
jacket is hanging on the fireplace and many props that have been
used over the years are also stored there. In another room is a
wonderful display of photographs taken over the years by the very
talented photographer, Malcolm Howarth. A few props are also in this
room but the main attraction, apart from the photographs, is a video
of bloopers.
The scenes go back through the years, from Seymour to Foggy's first
and second runs, to the still present Truly. There are a few interviews
but the video is narrated by Bill Owen. One of the shots they have of
him is a close up ... and he says, "Its great, but what I want to
know,
is what will I do when its finished?? That brought a tear to my eye.
Mr. Owen passed away during filming in July 1999. I visited Holmfirth
for the first time nearly a year after his death.
Anne and I sat through the short video twice, laughing heartily at the
bloopers and the funny shots they showed of the three silly men
getting into all sorts of trouble. The charge is a very small pound-fifty
and is worth it to see the film and the wee video of bloopers.
As we were leaving, we found where I'd signed the visitor's book back
in 2000 ... funny thing was, this was two years later and the book was
turned only a few pages off the page where I'd signed it so many
months ago. Spooky, eh?
We browsed through the gift shop and not finding anything we just
couldn't live without, we left. The parcel I was toting was growing
ever so heavy, so I decided that I needed to put the books in the car.
The walk back to the car was back through the middle of town,
through the pretty garden, over the footbridge, across the
supermarket car park, so we split up. Anne needed to phone her
grandmother, to make sure she'd be home on a visit Anne was
making the next day, and I made my trek to the car as she made hers
to a phone box. We met back up at Victoria Bridge. We decided we
were going to go on the minibus tour that is run out of Sid's Cafe
(yes, its a real cafe). There was a funeral that was taking place in the
church (which is across a courtyard from the cafe) and we figured
we'd get a cup of tea, sit outside, and take the tour after the funeral.
The funeral car (hearse) was parked where the minibus usually
parked for pickup of the tours, so we thought after the funeral, the
minibus would come back to resume tours ... which had obviously
been suspended during the funeral out of respect for the family. So
we took our tea and enjoyed the break from all the walking we'd been
doing.
It was sad watching the mourners of the lady who'd died come
outside, hugging each other, standing in lines for the undertakers to
go back inside and carry the coffin to the hearse. It was a somber
moment - which brought back stinging memories of the recent death
of my own mother-in-law. I found my eyes moist and shook it off, not
wanting to be down for the rest of the day.
After the funeral procession left (to where, we didn't know), we
waited a little while before going inside to ask about the tours and
when they were to resume. Unfortunately, we'd missed the last tour
but we weren't devastated at the news of it. We'd just carry on with
our amble.
 I'd done a bit of
shopping when I got back to the middle of town when
I was waiting on Anne to complete her phone call. We'd missed each
other but in a town the size of Holmfirth, even with all the rambling,
serpentine alleys, one couldn't stay lost for long. However, while I
was waiting, I couldn't resist going to a little shop at the bottom of
one of the steep passageways. I'd read about the shop online before
coming. Smilecraft has an abundance of doll houses, miniature
furnishings, and all sorts of accessories for doll houses. I was
captivated by the thousands of tiny pieces of furniture, wall hangings,
dishes, and so many other things. I spied some miniature houses
(which I collect) sitting in the window. I picked out a Baker's, a
Chemist's, and a pretty house complete with a gate. They were SO
reasonable, I got all three.
Leaving Sid's Cafe, I was going to place my newest treasures in the
car when we came upon a tour guide, sitting on the corner by the Post
Office. We decided, as we walked through the pretty garden, over the
footbridge, across the car park of the supermarket, to the car, that
we'd get a tour with him if he was still there when we returned.
We asked the guide if he was still doing tours, since his sign and
canvas chair was missing when we'd returned from the car park. He
agreed and said he had time for one more tour before shutting down
for the night. We got started and it was very evident early on that he
was made for this. He's animated and has a way about him for telling
stories. I imagine this guy can spin some tales!
We were shown the old jail, which is locked up from the outside. Its in
the center of a small, crooked, cobblestoned courtyard at the top of
Daisy Lane. Inside, we were told of the history of the jail, that the
bottom floor used to be the garage for the town's fire truck, and saw
the room where prisoners were kept awaiting their trials.
We ended up at Nora Batty's. Parting ways we decided to make a pit
stop and then drive around the valley. We headed towards the public
loo, stopped and paid our twenty pence, and went inside. Leaving
Anne to wash her hands, I was the first to walk back out.
We drove all over, some places I'd been before, some I hadn't. We
went to the White Horse, our first stop, and went inside. Recently, the
pub had gone up for sale, and the familiar face of Ron Backhouse and
his wife have gone into retirement. The new owners have done a lot
of remodeling on the pub and the beautiful brassware that had been
there before was all missing. Only a few of the hundreds of photos
that had been on the wall from the many years of the filming of
LOTSW were still hanging up.
I had spent time there when I was invited to a private party that the
cast and crew had on my previous visit and had enjoyed the ambiance
that this place had. It was now different but still had a quaintness
about it found in many British pubs.
After leaving, we headed out on a nice drive that would take us to
many different areas of the Holme Valley ... Meltham, Marsden,
Slaithwaite, as well as much more in between. We found a nicely
carved tree trunk in Meltham that had been done by a local artist to
save the stump from being carted away when the lot was turned into
a car park. We also found a wonderful bridge that is near the parish
church in Marsden; its one of two bridges I wanted to get photos of on
this trip and I was more than thrilled when I caught the first glimpse
of it.
We stood on the top of the bridge, letting leaves fall into the water
that ran swiftly below us, seeing who's would get to the other side of
the bridge first. Anne always won ... I think she had little motors on
her leaves!
After leaving Marsden and driving through some very picturesque
areas of the valley, I piped up that my stomach was yelling at me and
we decided it was time for dinner. We headed for the Huntsman - a
cheery pub high up on a hill in the moors.
We pulled up to the pub, piled out of the car, and headed inside. It
had turned off cool and rainy that evening, although most of the day
had been dry and warm. We picked a table and sat, blethering for
hours. We had a wonderful meal (I didn't finish all of mine before I
was full to the gills!) and enjoyed each other's company.
We were getting ready to call it a night but as we were leaving, the
landlord stopped us. He informed us of the death, just announced that
night, of Gordon Wharmby. He'd played a character named Wesley
Pegden since 1986. I'd had the pleasure of meeting and spending
some time with Mr. Wharmby on my trip in 2000. He'd even picked a
four-leafed clover and given it to me as I stood watching the crew my
first day in Holmfirth. He was a very kind man and very friendly. I
remember he hugged me the last day I was there, telling me to stay
safe on my travels and that he'd enjoyed meeting me.
I just stood there stunned. Trevor shared a few stories about Mr.
Wharmby as Anne and I stood there listening. I tried to fight them,
but the tears came anyway. I felt guilty that just earlier in the day
we'd been discussing what was going to happen when the next cast
member left us. The average age of the cast is over 80! Two of the
cast members are over 90! Mr. Wharmby was only 68 - he'd been
diagnosed with cancer and died in a hospital in North Wales the
Saturday before. It had just been made public on that Tuesday.
We'd spent the entire day in "Summer Wine" country ... thinking
about and discussing the different people in the cast and in the crew.
It was a Summer Wine occasion to be sure. What a bizarre turn of
events to happen on that very day. And what an emotional end to
such a wonderful time. In some strange way, I feel that we were all
meant to be there when we got the news.
I'd been given a choral tape earlier in the day, which included the
theme song to LOTSW, and Anne and I listened to it on the way back
to the B&B after leaving the pub. It was as emotional for me to listen
to it then as it was for me to listen to the theme song after hearing of
the death of Bill Owen three years before.
I didn't sleep well that night. I thought about the day and the family
that Mr. Wharmby left behind. Wondered how his friends were doing.
How they'd miss a man they'd worked with the better part of twenty
years. And I thought about the next day ... Anne was going to visit
her grandmother and I'd spend the day in Marsden ... again, in
"Summer Wine"mode. I had no idea that I'd make a discovery that
had eluded me for so long!
Ramblings: Daydreaming Drifters
Meander in
Marsden
 At
Uppergate Farm, in Hepworth, the way you get such a great breakfast is
filling out a form the night before. Alison makes sure what you are
looking for is in the kitchen and has it ready for you the next morning,
bright and early at the time you ask for it. Anne and I had decided that
8:30 was our optimal breakfast time - not too early, not too late. So it
was 8:30 when we ventured down the stairs to our fresh fruit, juice, tea
(coffee for Anne), and the various things we tried during our week long
stay at the B&B. Unless you're just not a breakfast person, there's no
way you'll leave Alison's table hungry!
We gathered our things and headed out the door ... the weather had
brightened up as it seemed to do all week. We'd wake to dark, dreary
clouds hanging over the hills and by the time we'd leave in the mornings,
the white, fluffy clouds came out with deep blue skies behind them.
I was dropped in Marsden at the train station and Anne was on the way to
her Grandmother's, just over the hill in another surrounding village. I
was pleased to see the day was bright and warm. I headed over to the canal
and began walking along the towpath.
The sky was so blue, it reflected a deep sapphire color in the canal
waters. There was barely any breeze at all, so the water acted as a mirror
to what nudged up against it. I wasn't sure how long a walk it was to the Standedge
Tunnel Visitor Center, but wasn't bothered by it at all. Even though I
didn't have much sleep the night before, I found myself full of energy and
ready for whatever Marsden threw my way.
I took a leisurely stroll along the towpath, towards the tunnel end. I was
not in a hurry, as I had plenty of time to myself that day. I could see a
bridge ahead and as I rounded the corner, I saw the Visitor's Center only
a stone's throw away ... but on the other side of the canal. Since I
wasn't in the mood (or dressed) for a swim, I decided to walk on ahead and
go over the bridge.
After having a short, but sweet conversation with a man from the National
Trust outside, I made my way into the lobby of the newly opened Standedge
Tunnel Visitor's Center.
The tunnel is on the Huddersfield
Narrow Canal, just reopened in 2001 after years of being derelict. The
tunnel originally opened in 1811 and prides itself in being the longest
canal tunnel ever built in Britain (three miles, 135 yards), the highest
in Britain (645 feet above sea level), and the deepest canal in Britain
(638 feet below the moorland).
Way back in the year 1806, the trek to Marsden was quite difficult. The
Pennine moors fixed as a barrier of the then new Huddersfield Narrow Canal
and there needed to be a connection from the East to the West. The
simplest way, a straight line, would also turn out to be the most
difficult - it had to go through a mountain.
Thomas
Telford, famous for the building of the Caledonian Canal in Scotland
and other engineering feats, was brought on to steer the project into
completion. Half-finished and out of money, the project had originally
been launched by Benjamin Outram - who himself had much fame in canal
building on his own list of accomplishments. Telford took on the project
and was able to open the tunnel on schedule.
A tunnel this size wouldn't have a towpath and would only fit the width of
one boat. Before the engine, boats were towed on the canals by horses but
the boats going through this tunnel were "legged". A canal
boat would enter the tunnel and workers would lay on top of the boat and
would literally walk along the wall to push the boat through. This took an
average of an exhausting four hours (yikes!) and the workers' energy would
be literally spent by the time they reached the other side.
On the outside of each opening of the tunnel, there were pubs, which would
refresh the men before their next trip through. The record in completing
the trip through the tunnel is held by David Whitehead, who in 1914,
"legged" the entire length of the canal in just one hour and
twenty-five minutes! Horses had to be walked over the moorland above the
tunnel. A Marsden man, Thomas Bourne, logged a career total of 215,852
miles, doing this four times daily!
Sadly, the railway eventually took over and the canals were phased out and
many remained closed for decades. Thanks to renewed interest in canals and
the increase of holiday makers on the waterways, the Huddersfield Narrow
and the Standedge Tunnel are now reopened for business.
The Visitor's Center is compiled of two floors of interactive exhibits
(great for kids) and I took a trip on the new glass-topped electrically
run narrowboat about twenty-odd feet into the tunnel. I was hoping to get
a ride all the way through but the trip (one-way) takes about two hours.
That's a very long time to be on a narrowboat just for the sake of getting
through the tunnel!
After getting back to the Visitor's Center, I went into the gift shop. I
picked up a few bits and bobs and saw the photograph of a bridge that I'd
been trying to get directions to for weeks before the trip. I bought the
photo (which was on front of a blank greeting card) and asked the clerk if
she knew where the bridge was.
Happily, she pointed me in the right direction, gave me wonderful
instructions on how to get there, and I was on my way. I could hardly
breathe. The first time I saw the Packhorse Bridge (or Eastergate Bridge
as its called) was on an episode of LOTSW. It struck me then and there as
being extremely photogenic and I knew I needed to get to the bridge to
photograph it. I had tried to get to it on two previous trips but the trek
ended in disappointment, since no one I asked even knew what I was talking
about. I had posted messages on several websites and had some sketchy
directions, which helped, but I had nothing solid. This was the first time
I had REAL hope in finding this "lost treasure" that had been
hiding from me for two years.
I got my water, I made sure my camera was locked and loaded, and I headed
out the door. Seeing a little trail just past the Visitor's Center that
led to the other side of a small stream, I took it to get off the paved
road. It followed the road and I knew there would be an outlet for me to
keep following the directions the clerk had given me.
The path was familiar to me, since we had just been over in that area the
night before. We stopped close to a hotel and gazed into some distant
fields before turning back. The journey on this day, however; would take
me far beyond that point. I smiled as I spied a white gate, off its
hinges, that would put me back on the main road once again.
It was a wonderful hike, not taxing at all. I kept onto the main road,
just past the hotel, until I found the entrance to a bridle pathway. I
went inside the gate and kept close to the inside of the trail, since the
outside was a straight drop of about fifteen feet. I could tell I was
walking further and further away from civilization. Sheep and cattle
filled the meadow on the other side of the shallow stream I was walking
beside.
The sun was beating down, the sky blue, and white puffs of clouds hovered
overhead. Then I saw it ... just peeking at me around a bend. Excitement
rose in me like I was actually the first person to lay eyes on the
treasure that is this bridge. The closer I got to it the more it confirmed
itself to me ... this was IT! I slowed my pace so I could enjoy the
unfolding of this discovery. I was totally alone. Not another soul (that
didn't moo or bleat) was anywhere nearby.
The silence was only interrupted by the breaking of the trickling water
against the rocks below. Once in awhile the wind would rustle the leaves
on the trees. I just stood on top of the bridge, finally appreciating the
view from the best vantage point possible.
I walked down on the other side of the bridge, close to the water. I laid
down my gear and my jacket. I walked around inhaling the fresh air,
absorbing this moment through my very skin. I sat in the shade under an
enormous tree and just looked in every direction.
To the rear was the continuing pathway, heading into the hills further on.
They rose and flowed like green velvet fabric caught on the underside by a
gentle breeze. To my right was a derelict building of unknown origin to
me, alongside a split in the stream that flowed down from the foothills
beyond. The sunlight glistened on the sweeping water like so many diamonds
that were accidentally dropped here by unknowing travelers. I had to pinch
myself to make sure I was actually there.
I picked up my camera and began to shoot again. I wanted to capture this
moment so it would remain in my memory forever. Its little moments like
this that can either make or break a trip for me. It was a finding for me
like a good deal on a painting would be for someone else. The only
difference was that I couldn't take this one home with me (the bridge
wouldn't fit in my carry-on) ... so I wanted to make sure I had physical
memories to take home with me. I found a shiny pebble in the tiny rapids.
As I reached for it, I found the water crystal clear and ice cold. I dried
it off and placed it carefully in my pocket.
I could've stayed there all day. But I was starting to get hungry and the
walk into Marsden would seem to increase in distance if I waited too long.
If I ever get the opportunity to return, I'll bring a picnic lunch!
I began my walk back to the center of town and before I knew it, I was
passing the Visitor's Center and then the train station, and finally
spying the clock tower in the center of the village. I walked
past the park in the town center and found my way into a small sandwich
shop. I got a modest lunch and went back to the park to sit down, enjoy
the sunshine, and eat. The wind had picked up a bit.
I shared the park with three Mallard ducks. Two tried desperately to get
hold of any leftovers I'd let fall to the ground, but none ever came,
despite the breeze. I was starving! I swung my legs up and then back under
the bench, so they wouldn't get too close. Don't worry, no ducks or other
wildlife were injured in the making of this trip report. =)
After munching to my heart's content, I walked over to the phone box to
call Anne. We'd agreed that I'd phone after I ate lunch and while I was in
the phone box, the heaven's opened up and dumped enough rain on the
village to give it a good shine. I found that Anne was already on her way,
so I went back to the park, sat by the water, and wrote in my journal. I
was so absorbed, in fact, that Anne was able to sneak up on me. I looked
up and she was there! We had a giggle and asked each other (almost
simultaneously) what the other had done all day. We exchanged stories and
headed back to the B&B for a rest.
That night we opted for the Butcher's Arms (a very nice pub less than a
five minute walk from the B&B) for dinner. We didn't have reservations
(we weren't aware we needed any) but we were seated by a very thin, very
blonde waitress. After sitting down, we noticed that every one of them
were very thin and very blonde. We talked about our day and discussed our
plans for the next day. I had a couple of morning appointments then we
would spend the rest of the day on some new big adventure.
We were served our food and during the meal, Anne asked me (quietly, of
course) how on earth could the food be so good and so rich and the wait
staff be so thin (and so blonde). This was a mystery to us. If I worked
there, I'd look much like I do now, if not a little more "meaty"
around the hip area! The food was just fabulous!
After a nice dinner and an unhurried stroll back to the B&B, we again
stretched out for a rest. It is very hard work eating all that food, ya
know!
I had wanted to do some night photography while I was in Holmfirth.
Bidding her goodnight, I left Anne at the B&B to rest and I headed out
into the darkness, armed with my camera, some black and white film, and my
tripod. I also wore my sweater and a jacket (the night air was a wee bit
cooler than the day had been).
I parked the car (happy that there were no fees for parking after six!),
lugged my gear around with me, and set up for my first of several shots of
the center of town. Being from a high-crime area here at home, I quickly
grew feathers and turned chicken. I didn't venture into the alleyways like
I'd wanted to do. Instead, I spent the next hour bracketing photos of the
parish church ... one of the twisted
intersections lit solely by streetlight ... a pub at the end of town ...
and a few other places that caught my eye. It began to rain, so I shut
down my photo operation and drove back to the B&B, trying not to wake
Anne, who had fallen asleep while I was gone.
It was a good day. I needed a happy discovery to keep me light-hearted and
the time on my own did me well ... as it also seemed to do for Anne. I
fell into bed that night. I guessed that all together I'd walked around
ten miles that day, if not more, and even though it was leisurely, it was
still a lot of walking for someone who spent 40-50 hours a week behind a
desk! I always do a lot of walking when I go to Britain ... it seems to be
the only way to find the good stuff! And I'm all about finding the good
stuff.
I enjoy making those small discoveries that a lot of people can't be
bothered with. I enjoy sitting in the park with a picnic lunch, I enjoy
finding treasures that most would skip in lieu of a grand castle or
popular museum, I enjoy watching people, and I enjoy just sitting and
letting the world go by. That, to me, is a true vacation!
I nodded off quickly that night and remember thinking, as I felt my body
sink into the bed covers, that I had a very big day ahead of me. It would
be the day of the photographer, the policeman, and the salt man.
More updates later
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