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Late Doors

Skipton

Off tomorrow for a jolly day out with MrsD. Day rover territory (almost) so a cheap day on the buses and trains, should be ace. Been loads of times before, gateway to the Dales    and all that but never been courting there before   . Full report to follow
Butts

I'm there on Monday, but for work. There's a nice pie shop somewhere I'm aiming to look up again.
lebowski

Butts wrote:
I'm there on Monday, but for work. There's a nice pie shop somewhere I'm aiming to look up again.


Its at the top end of the High Street on the left, near the castle.

The Wetherspoons in Skipton is surprisingly pleasant.
Late Doors

Nice Pies and a decent Weatherspoons eh? here we come  
geoff_bell

is that the place with the stone teddy bears in the waterfall?
Forest

geoff_bell wrote:
is that the place with the stone teddy bears in the waterfall?


Think you mean Mother Shiptons cave in Knaresborough Geoff.



Mother Shipton's cave, believed to be England's Oldest attraction, is the birthplace of the renowned 15th century prophetess. To this day, thousands of visitors come to see the amazing petrifying well
where absorbent objects are turned to stone with the passage of time. Once believed to have been the work of witchcraft, the well's powers to turn objects to stone are actually the result of natural processes and the water's high mineral content.
geoff_bell

skipton, shipton. sounds the same dunnit?
lebowski

geoff_bell wrote:
skipton, shipton. sounds the same dunnit?


Yeah, Lonnie Donegan, the king of Shiffle.
lebowski

Clacker wrote:
Isnt Mother Shipton's cave (gnrrk) owned by Paul Daniels?


It is indeed, thats magic.
lebowski

Clacker wrote:
Word up, homies

We're talkin 'bout Skipton
Not mother Shipton
In the county of the Dales
Not in Wales

*Does rap arms/hand thing*


Indeed, that would work if Knaresborough was in Wales  
geoff_bell

i remember we holidayed in york once.

did the tourist thing and did skipton (is that the town with the toffee?) and emerdale land (blooming steep hill down to it i remember). maybe even yerwomman's cave too.
Forest

geoff_bell wrote:
i remember we holidayed in york once.

did the tourist thing and did skipton (is that the town with the toffee?) and emerdale land (blooming steep hill down to it i remember). maybe even yerwomman's cave too.


Howarth ?
Dock

I like Skipton. I think the castle is amazing. There's a great Black Sheep Brewery pub on the main street in which I watched last years Grand National.

Anyway, enough about pubs and castles. I want to hear more about this courting mularky.
Butts

The pie shop. Didn't have one as I'm watching my weight.


Fin

Butts wrote:
The pie shop. Didn't have one as I'm watching my weight.




Do they also sell Adult Movies

*swishes through plastic curtain*

**swishes out very disapointed**
Late Doors

Thats the baby. i think you might mean Kettlewell Geoff with the steep road.

So we get three carriages for the transpennine Manchester airport train travelling the width of the country on perhaps the busiest route in the UK and we get a whopping nine carriages for the tranquil Leeds Skipton Route. As it happens we needed the nine carriages to carry the army of well coiffured boys and girls going to the Bingley Music festival. All looking fine and dandy in neatly co ordinated scruffs with precision tares and frays eagerly discussing hair products with each other while the girls gaggled about what you can and cant take into the festival. That  American/Aussie/Asian/African hybrid accent that intonates  in all the wrong directions at all the wrong times filling the train with youthful insight and wisdom. Apparently they will confiscate your wine gums at the entrance if you try to smuggle them in and getting off with Jack is like, so not gonna happen. Easy to be cynical and mock the young I know, It is our duty as envious over the hill codgers but the handful of us left on the train at Bingley exchanged empathising glances and breathed  a collective sigh of relief as we chugged north towards Skipton, the end of the line

It was sheep day in Sunny Skipton, the slight chill making way to a nice late summer warmth as the sun broke through the clouds and we crossed the road towards the canal before making a right turn towards town. The first ornamental sheep greeted us painted by some juniors school kids and we immediately realised this wasnít going to be a high art exhibition of them we were hoping for along the lines of those cows we saw in Chicago. There were some thirty odd of these sheep scattered around town in a designed walk t called the sheep trail all colourfully decorated. Most of them at one time or other hosting the neat little straddling backsides of a gang of young lasses intent on having their pictures taken with every one of them throughput the day. The last of them getting the added benefit of lager induced gyrating bucking bronco mimes as the day past on. We strolled along the tow path gayfully coloured barges lining the canal all emblazoned with immediately recognisable names like the Honley Honey  and the Mirfield Mermaid. These travellers of the aqua highways obviously having a taste for the exotic.    

Skipton is a lovely little town on the southern edge of the very beautiful Yorkshire Dales if you didnít know and must therefore present itself with the charm you should expect of that privileged entrance door situation. I think it does that more than adequately. Saturday is market day and by that I mean the main drag is lined on both sides with stalls selling fruit,. Veg, DVDs, books, hardware, clothes, Tights, Perfumes, pegs, watch batteries, toys, pigsí ears and pig knuckles, sometimes all on the same stall. We had a wander around but it was only a matter of time before the call of the Pork Pie was heard. As Butts and Leb said earlier the very wonderful Stanforth Butchers is on the top side of the drag as it veers left to the canal and a constant line of people queuing outside made testament to its reputation as supplier of truly delicious pies, We got three, the intention being two for me and one for MrsD. MrsD however in that oh so predictable way deciding I should share my second when she decided that one wasnít enough for her. So whatís a man supposed to do? I queued up and bought a fourth and wolfed that down along with most of MrsDs second when she faced the other predictable certainty that she had bitten of more than she could chew literally. So very nearly three pork pies for lunch, not a bad start id say, now something to wash it down with. I've never been to this Wetherspoons that Leb mentioned before  so we headed for the Devonshire (For that is its name) Yeah, I know what you mean about decent, itís all very sedate and ornate with a huge interior much along the lines of the Fantastic Richard Oastler in Brighouse but had no where near the latterís immaculate presentation. To me there were too many eaters tucking into value for money pub grub creating that aroma that is most certainly not convivial to supping a  very quaffable bitter, A goose Eye summer brew called Geese us a kiss. We sat outside with the various Local ahem characters and admired the impressive Georgian exterior of the pub.

Suitably fed and watered we continued our stroll about town. Up and down both sides of the main drag, along the canal and in and around the adjoining side streets Mrsd surveying the restaurant menus, Jewellery and shoe shops, outdoor pursuit shops and finally a liberty type shop with a 20%discount scheme where she stocked up with Shea Butter products, I made a little mental note to mention this in the report should any Reggers be interested in that. Continuing the Reg theme we walked along Sheeps Street and watched the Carp in the canal with their huge Fins breaking through the surface of the water. Time for another Pint, this time in the Narrow Boat up a side street.    There was some kind of family party in the pub with shouting kids all over the place so it was al fresco supping again. This time a more than decent pint of a well hopped beer from the Wharf dale brewery I think but canít remember the name.

By now we were weighing up our options. MrsD I think was expecting a more interesting day whereas I knew exactly what the town had to offer and suggested we should take it for that and enjoy itís quaint and gentle charms. She suggested we go back to Leeds but I persuaded her to tarry a while longer and maybe go to the Aagrah curry house on the canal side. Neither of us could really think about eating though as the pies were still only two hours away so we took another lap of the town before settling down in perhaps the best pub in town the Woolly Sheep. A fine long by narrow bona fide Timothy Taylors owned ale house. I had a very rare pint of Taylors Dark Mild (I say rare because you can rarely find it elsewhere) and MrsD had a lovely treacly half of Ram Tam. The pub was playing some good tunes, the Manics and some ace 1950ís blues so we had another. This time a more familiar pint of Golden Best. By now it was tea time the shops were closing and the sun was lowering so we made our way to the castle pub around the corner across from the Pie Shop. Apparently the pub allows you to take a pie in from the shop and will provide you with cutlery. This would suggest the pub is a well run caring place but alas that was not the case. The Red Wine had all but disappeared and the lass suggested MrsD might like a mix of the dregs of two bottles. I had a pint of Theakstons best which I would bet my last pound on was actually Sam Smiths with that distinct dry rasping finish. It was a pleasant outdoor sitting area though as we watched the world go by in front of us catching the early evening sun with the castle itself to our left. It was by now that time when we had to decide what to do. Neither of us were hungry but knew if we didnít have anything it would be tennish before we were and it would be too late by then for MrsD whose internal digestion systems seems to shut down post eight thirty. Se we settled on the Aagrah but not before a final slurp canal side in the Royal Shepard where again some fine tunes sprung from the pa as a final pint of Taylors best was sunk.


The Aagrah was no different to the one in Leeds by the Playhouse. Iím not too impressed to be honest, Itís basic curry house fodder tarted up with faux elegance, We still were not really hungry so no starter but a substantial mixed grill of tandoori chicken, seeikh kebabs,  lamb tikka and Tandoori Fish with a veggy side dish and a chicken Karai were easily devoured with one chapatti and rice which suggested we were either hungrier than we thought or just plain greedy bstrds. It certainly wasnít testimony to the quality as it was just average over salted as usual and the meat a little too dry. So that was that, the end of a nice little day out in Skipton. We got the train back about Eight Oíclock having an entire carriage to ourselves and we were back home for ten. It would have been sooner but whatís the point of having a Day Rover pass if youíre going to get a taxi home I said. So we had another pint in the Head of steam to pass the time while our one per hour bus was due. So to recap three pies, seven pints and a curry, very satisfactory, salad for tea tonight I think. Not before I catch up with that fabulous Thread in Fish bowl though.
bearing

I prefer the pork pies from Morley's of Swanland...
Dock

Late Doors wrote:
Thats the baby. i think you might mean Kettlewell Geoff with the steep road.

So we get three carriages for the transpennine Manchester airport train travelling the width of the country on perhaps the busiest route in the UK and we get a whopping nine carriages for the tranquil Leeds Skipton Route. As it happens we needed the nine carriages to carry the army of well coiffured boys and girls going to the Bingley Music festival. All looking fine and dandy in neatly co ordinated scruffs with precision tares and frays eagerly discussing hair products with each other while the girls gaggled about what you can and cant take into the festival. That †American/Aussie/Asian/African hybrid accent that intonates †in all the wrong directions at all the wrong times filling the train with youthful insight and wisdom. Apparently they will confiscate your wine gums at the entrance if you try to smuggle them in and getting off with Jack is like, so not gonna happen. Easy to be cynical and mock the young I know, It is our duty as envious over the hill codgers but the handful of us left on the train at Bingley exchanged empathising glances and breathed †a collective sigh of relief as we chugged north towards Skipton, the end of the line

It was sheep day in Sunny Skipton, the slight chill making way to a nice late summer warmth as the sun broke through the clouds and we crossed the road towards the canal before making a right turn towards town. The first ornamental sheep greeted us painted by some juniors school kids and we immediately realised this wasnít going to be a high art exhibition of them we were hoping for along the lines of those cows we saw in Chicago. There were some thirty odd of these sheep scattered around town in a designed walk t called the sheep trail all colourfully decorated. Most of them at one time or other hosting the neat little straddling backsides of a gang of young lasses intent on having their pictures taken with every one of them throughput the day. The last of them getting the added benefit of lager induced gyrating bucking bronco mimes as the day past on. We strolled along the tow path gayfully coloured barges lining the canal all emblazoned with immediately recognisable names like the Honley Honey †and the Mirfield Mermaid. These travellers of the aqua highways obviously having a taste for the exotic. † †

Skipton is a lovely little town on the southern edge of the very beautiful Yorkshire Dales if you didnít know and must therefore present itself with the charm you should expect of that privileged entrance door situation. I think it does that more than adequately. Saturday is market day and by that I mean the main drag is lined on both sides with stalls selling fruit,. Veg, DVDs, books, hardware, clothes, Tights, Perfumes, pegs, watch batteries, toys, pigsí ears and pig knuckles, sometimes all on the same stall. We had a wander around but it was only a matter of time before the call of the Pork Pie was heard. As Butts and Leb said earlier the very wonderful Stanforth Butchers is on the top side of the drag as it veers left to the canal and a constant line of people queuing outside made testament to its reputation as supplier of truly delicious pies, We got three, the intention being two for me and one for MrsD. MrsD however in that oh so predictable way deciding I should share my second when she decided that one wasnít enough for her. So whatís a man supposed to do? I queued up and bought a fourth and wolfed that down along with most of MrsDs second when she faced the other predictable certainty that she had bitten of more than she could chew literally. So very nearly three pork pies for lunch, not a bad start id say, now something to wash it down with. I've never been to this Wetherspoons that Leb mentioned before †so we headed for the Devonshire (For that is its name) Yeah, I know what you mean about decent, itís all very sedate and ornate with a huge interior much along the lines of the Fantastic Richard Oastler in Brighouse but had no where near the latterís immaculate presentation. To me there were too many eaters tucking into value for money pub grub creating that aroma that is most certainly not convivial to supping a †very quaffable bitter, A goose Eye summer brew called Geese us a kiss. We sat outside with the various Local ahem characters and admired the impressive Georgian exterior of the pub.

Suitably fed and watered we continued our stroll about town. Up and down both sides of the main drag, along the canal and in and around the adjoining side streets Mrsd surveying the restaurant menus, Jewellery and shoe shops, outdoor pursuit shops and finally a liberty type shop with a 20%discount scheme where she stocked up with Shea Butter products, I made a little mental note to mention this in the report should any Reggers be interested in that. Continuing the Reg theme we walked along Sheeps Street and watched the Carp in the canal with their huge Fins breaking through the surface of the water. Time for another Pint, this time in the Narrow Boat up a side street. † †There was some kind of family party in the pub with shouting kids all over the place so it was al fresco supping again. This time a more than decent pint of a well hopped beer from the Wharf dale brewery I think but canít remember the name.

By now we were weighing up our options. MrsD I think was expecting a more interesting day whereas I knew exactly what the town had to offer and suggested we should take it for that and enjoy itís quaint and gentle charms. She suggested we go back to Leeds but I persuaded her to tarry a while longer and maybe go to the Aagrah curry house on the canal side. Neither of us could really think about eating though as the pies were still only two hours away so we took another lap of the town before settling down in perhaps the best pub in town the Woolly Sheep. A fine long by narrow bona fide Timothy Taylors owned ale house. I had a very rare pint of Taylors Dark Mild (I say rare because you can rarely find it elsewhere) and MrsD had a lovely treacly half of Ram Tam. The pub was playing some good tunes, the Manics and some ace 1950ís blues so we had another. This time a more familiar pint of Golden Best. By now it was tea time the shops were closing and the sun was lowering so we made our way to the castle pub around the corner across from the Pie Shop. Apparently the pub allows you to take a pie in from the shop and will provide you with cutlery. This would suggest the pub is a well run caring place but alas that was not the case. The Red Wine had all but disappeared and the lass suggested MrsD might like a mix of the dregs of two bottles. I had a pint of Theakstons best which I would bet my last pound on was actually Sam Smiths with that distinct dry rasping finish. It was a pleasant outdoor sitting area though as we watched the world go by in front of us catching the early evening sun with the castle itself to our left. It was by now that time when we had to decide what to do. Neither of us were hungry but knew if we didnít have anything it would be tennish before we were and it would be too late by then for MrsD whose internal digestion systems seems to shut down post eight thirty. Se we settled on the Aagrah but not before a final slurp canal side in the Royal Shepard where again some fine tunes sprung from the pa as a final pint of Taylors best was sunk.


The Aagrah was no different to the one in Leeds by the Playhouse. Iím not too impressed to be honest, Itís basic curry house fodder tarted up with faux elegance, We still were not really hungry so no starter but a substantial mixed grill of tandoori chicken, seeikh kebabs, †lamb tikka and Tandoori Fish with a veggy side dish and a chicken Karai were easily devoured with one chapatti and rice which suggested we were either hungrier than we thought or just plain greedy bstrds. It certainly wasnít testimony to the quality as it was just average over salted as usual and the meat a little too dry. So that was that, the end of a nice little day out in Skipton. We got the train back about Eight Oíclock having an entire carriage to ourselves and we were back home for ten. It would have been sooner but whatís the point of having a Day Rover pass if youíre going to get a taxi home I said. So we had another pint in the Head of steam to pass the time while our one per hour bus was due. So to recap three pies, seven pints and a curry, very satisfactory, salad for tea tonight I think. Not before I catch up with that fabulous Thread in Fish bowl though.


The Woolly Sheep, thats the boozer I was in. I was mistaken saying it was a Black Sheep pub. Did you enter it up a bit of an alley LD?
bearing

You quoted the whole of LD's post just to tell us that?

Geez....
sheeps

He's hyper after all vitamin C in his bitter.

Kin puff.
Plastic Man

Dock wrote:
Did you enter it up a bit of an alley LD?


You entered a woolly sheep by way of its alley?
bearing

Plastic Man wrote:
Dock wrote:
Did you enter it up a bit of an alley LD?


You entered a woolly sheep by way of its alley?


That's what all these ladida folks do PM, those oranges were just the thin end of the wedge...
sheeps

It's in God's Country.
Kingmaker of Lilliput

Passed through Skipton (edge really) on way to and from Giggleswick (base for a three peaks walk). Seemed very little different from what I remember in 1999.

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