Category Archives: England

England

Birmingham · Liverpool · Manchester · Wetherby · York

We arrived in Birmingham after our Spanish cruise and delayed arrival. It had been a long day so we took it easy and really did not do much that first evening. The next morning, we saw Birmingham’s waterways unfolded before us with a quietness we hadn’t expected from England’s second city.

Birmingham’s Canals

A Historical Canal Marker – Bringing History to Life

The morning was still, allowing us to see the canals mirror the ironwork bridges and redbrick warehouses above them. Each reflection trembling only slightly at the passage of a mallard or a slow-drifting leaf. We walked the towpaths reading the cast markers that named each bridge and stretch of water, small monuments to an infrastructure that once powered the Empire.

It was a volunteer historian who brought it all alive for us. A man of genuine enthusiasm and salt-and-pepper knowledge. He actually lives aboard a canal boat — which lent his words a particular authority. He walked us through one of the Industrial Revolution’s great secrets. Birmingham didn’t merely use these canals, it weaponized them. Threading iron and coal and ambition through two hundred miles of engineered water to fuel the workshop of the world.

The Hawthorns: West Bromwich Albion vs. Millwall

We came to The Hawthorns the way proper football supporters do, by public transit. Weaving through the Friday evening streets of the West Midlands with scarves and anticipation. Before the gates opened, we found ourselves drawn into a tailgate gathering outside. The smell of charcoal and grilled meat cutting through the cool spring air. A burger in hand, surrounded by Baggies faithful in their navy and white stripes, felt like the right way to begin.

Inside the ground, we discovered something we hadn’t quite expected from a Championship football stadium: a genuine community gathering. We settled at a picnic table in the concourse, apple ciders in hand, and fell into easy conversation with locals who wore their club with the unselfconscious loyalty of people for whom West Brom is simply part of who they are. There was warmth in the banter, and a generosity toward two obvious outsiders who had turned up for the love of the game.

From Our Seats to the Match – Expectations Exceeded!

Five rows off the pitch – you could clearly hear the thunder of cleats and the sound of the ball being put into play.

Our seats were extraordinary — five rows off the pitch, positioned between the offside box and the centreline. At that proximity, football becomes something different altogether. You hear the crunch of tackles, the shouts of instruction, the collective exhale when a chance goes wide. The match itself was electric. Both sides probing and pressing with genuine intent, Millwall defending with the gritty organization that has always defined them. West Brom creating just enough danger to keep the home crowd on edge. In the end, the scoreline remained goalless. Both sides claimed a clean sheet. The contest felt far richer than any scoreboard could suggest.

What awaited us afterward was unexpected. At the train station, police had formed a careful choreography. Millwall supporters corralled on one side; West Brom fans on the other. Each faction loaded onto alternating trains to prevent the evening from curdling into something uglier. It was a reminder that beneath the camaraderie of the beautiful game, old rivalries still carry an edge. A reminder English football, even in its lower tiers, takes no chances with that.

Birmingham: History and Theatre

The day after the match, Birmingham revealed a quieter, more contemplative face. We wandered through the city’s historical heart, tracing the civic ambition of a place that had once declared itself the workshop of the world. Grand Victorian architecture sitting comfortably alongside modern redevelopment, each layer of the city telling a different chapter of the same restless story.

The evening brought an unexpected delight. Spotting a flyer for Death on the Nile at the Alexandra Theatre, we made a spontaneous decision that proved inspired. It was, as it turned out, the production’s final night. From our lower balcony seats, the drama unfolded with all of Agatha Christie’s delicious intrigue intact. Poirot and the cast commanding the stage with evident relish. A perfect last act to our Birmingham days.

Liverpool

Paddington Bear, with a marmalade sandwich!

Liverpool announces itself with the kind of confidence that only cities shaped by genuine history can muster. We began at the Albert Dock, that great curve of restored Victorian warehouses along the Mersey waterfront. Our self-guided walk set the rhythm of the day. The waterfront rewarded unhurried wandering. Spotting the Fab Four, immortalized in bronze. Four familiar silhouettes caught mid-stride against the grey river light. Later, rather unexpectedly, we found Paddington Bear, marmalade sandwich in hand and every bit as endearing in statue form as in print.

A Journey to the Early Beatles

Our second day brought a private guide, and with her came the Liverpool that guidebooks rarely reach. For two and a half hours she walked us through the city’s layered story. The maritime wealth, the immigration waves, the music, the football. The particular pride of a place that has never quite seen itself as simply another English city. It was the kind of insider knowledge that reframes everything you thought you already knew. We left the tour considerably more enlightened for it.

Penny Lane in the pouring rain. It seems like it was scripted!

That afternoon we made the pilgrimage to Penny Lane. It would be too neat to say we planned what happened next. As we turned onto that famous street the sky obliged with a steady, committed Liverpool rain. The barbershop was there. The shelter in the middle of the roundabout. And there we were, walking up and down in the drizzle, thoroughly soaked — or rather, one of us was. Meg had the good sense to come prepared. I did not own a mac, and since this was not my home or business, I could not rush in anywhere from the pouring rain. Apparently this struck Meg as not merely impractical but faintly baffling. She was right on both counts.

From Penny Lane we made our way to Strawberry Field. The famous red gates overlooking the grounds where a young John Lennon once played as a child. It was a dreamlike landscape that would eventually become one of rock and roll’s most beloved songs. Standing there quietly in the aftermath of the rain, it was easy to understand why the place never left him.

Manchester

The train delivered us into Manchester with the efficient abruptness that rail travel does best. Within minutes we had found our way to Mackie Mayor, the city’s beloved Victorian market hall repurposed into a cathedral of food and drink. We settled in with something adult and restorative, watching the city introduce itself at its own pace — animated, unpretentious, and quietly proud.

The rest of that first day was given over to simply absorbing the place. Manchester wears its industrial past visibly, in the bones of its architecture and the width of its streets, built for the movement of goods and people on a scale that once made this city the engine of a global economy.

Learning the Difficult History

The following morning brought a group walking tour, led by a guide who proved equally at ease with medieval history and contemporary social fault lines. Manchester, we learned, is a city in honest conversation with itself. It grapples openly with questions of inequality, identity, and regeneration that many cities prefer to leave unexamined. It was a refreshing and occasionally uncomfortable portrait.

Vimto – a delicious drink invented in Manchester. We tried it and loved it!

That afternoon, the Science and Industry Museum delivered the Industrial Revolution in full and unsparing detail. The story of the cotton mills is one of almost incomprehensible human cost. Workers, including children as young as five, enduring conditions that the museum presents without softening or euphemism. The noise, the heat, the hours, the toll on small bodies: Manchester does not look away from any of it.

Nor does it flinch from a more troubling thread. Britain abolished slavery decades before the United States, yet Manchester’s merchants continued purchasing cotton harvested by enslaved Americans. Their mills humming with the profits of bondage by proxy. The museum names this plainly and without apology. At its height, we were told by an interpreter, Manchester produced roughly eighty percent of the world’s textile goods. A staggering figure that reframes the entire city you’ve been walking through, casting its grand Victorian facades in a considerably more complicated light. It is precisely this willingness to look honestly at its own history that makes Manchester one of England’s most compelling cities to visit.

Wetherby and the Yorkshire Countryside

We collected a rental car and pointed it north into Yorkshire. Doing so, we traded the urban cadence of Manchester for something older and quieter. Wetherby announced itself without fanfare. A medieval market town that has been holding its weekly market for five centuries, and sees no particular reason to make a fuss about it. We wandered the stalls and cobbled streets as people have always wandered them. Unhurried and attentive, and felt the particular pleasure of a place that has not been polished for tourism.

At the end of our wandering, we ducked into the Red Lion Inn, and the Red Lion rewarded us handsomely. A proper working-class pub of the old school — warm, unpretentious, presided over by a barkeep of genuine friendliness. It is exactly the kind of place that reminds you why English pub culture, at its best, is worth travelling for. We sampled the wares and felt entirely at home.

The Moors

The following day took us up onto the North York Moors, where the landscape opened into something vast and melancholy and beautiful. The clouds were low and heavy, but rather than diminishing the famous view they seemed to deepen it — lending the moors a brooding quality that felt wholly appropriate. We captured the white horse cut into the hillside, half-swallowed by mist, and agreed that the grey skies had given us something a sunny day never could.

A Historical Abbey – Completely Abandoned, Except for Us

Byland Abbey – no one there except us and memories of Monks from almost 1,000 years ago.

Then we found Byland Abbey. It was built in the twelfth century under the Benedictine rule and surrendered — like all the others — to Henry VIII’s particular brand of theological acquisitiveness. Today, it stands in magnificent ruin across an open field. What made it extraordinary was the solitude: we were the only visitors. A volunteer host showed us how to read the mason’s marks cut directly into the stonework. The quiet signatures of the men who built this place eight hundred years ago and never expected anyone to look for them. The interpretive signs throughout the grounds painted a vivid picture of monastic life. Standing with one hand against those ancient walls in the grey quiet afternoon, it was possible to feel, without any effort of imagination, the weight of the generations who had prayed here.

That evening we walked Wetherby’s bridge at sunset. As we did so, the River Wharfe was catching the last of the light below us — a moment of stillness after a day spent among ruins.

From the Moors to the Dales

Yorkshire Dales the next morning brought us to Bolton Abbey, substantially larger than Byland and considerably less deteriorated. It was handsome and well-tended, and we appreciated it as it deserved. And yet… perhaps it was the crowds, or the manicured grounds, or simply the memory of standing alone at Byland with the wind and the mason’s marks — but Bolton Abbey, for all its grandeur, could not quite compete.

Where the Magna Carta was Written

Our final Yorkshire excursion took us to Spofforth Castle, where history of the most consequential kind is said to have unfolded. It is here that rebel barons, among them Richard de Percy, are believed to have gathered in 1215 to draft the terms of what would become the Magna Carta — the document that would reshape the relationship between crown and subject across the centuries. The castle is abandoned now, open to the public without charge, its stones warm and accessible in a way that great history rarely is. We touched those walls too.

We ended the day as the English do it best: a traditional Sunday roast at a local pub. Enormous portions, honest prices, and the deep satisfaction of a meal that asks nothing of you except appetite.

York

We left Wetherby and pointed the car north, making a worthy detour through Ripon first. The cathedral there is a quiet marvel — and inside, the Ripon Jewel and a chalice dating to the 1500s stopped us in our tracks. Small objects carrying an almost unreasonable weight of history. Continuing on, we pulled over at Hetchell Woods for a stretch of the legs, following woodland trails until we reached a river crossing made entirely of stepping stones. The challenge was accepted, the crossing was made, dignity more or less intact.

York received us with the easy confidence of a city that knows exactly what it is. We marked the occasion with the obligatory photograph at the York sign, then found our way to a historical pub overlooking the Shambles. That impossibly preserved medieval street of overhanging timber facades and overrun by Harry Potter fans. We settled in with a well-earned pint watching the world go by.

Paddington Appears (Again!)

Paddington in York – he keeps showing up. I think he has a crush on Meg 😉

The following day brought a guided walk that filled in the city’s extraordinary layering — Roman, Viking, Norman, medieval, all of it stacked and interwoven beneath your feet. Paddington Bear made another appearance, as he seemingly does everywhere on this journey, and we obliged him with a photograph. But it is the Minster that commands everything. Massive and imposing in a way that photographs simply cannot prepare you for, it rises above the rooftops of York like a medieval argument for the existence of something greater than ourselves.

That evening gifted us something entirely unplanned. The bells of the Minster began to ring, and the bell choir rose beneath them. The sound carried through the entire town — across the cobblestones and through the narrow lanes and over the ancient walls. Standing outside the imposing building made the centuries feel briefly, beautifully thin. As the bells faded, we walked the ramparts in the lingering light, looking down upon rooftops and spires and streets that have witnessed hundreds of years of unbroken human life below.

The ghost walk, alas, was cancelled at the last minute — the guide unavailable, the spirits uninterviewed. No matter. York wears its haunted reputation in every shadowed alleyway and crooked medieval lane (known as snikleways), and no formal tour was needed to feel it. We left with the distinct sense that York’s ghosts are perfectly capable of introducing themselves.

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Cam and Meg

England – Spring 2025

We were off again on April 1^st, and that was no April Fool’s joke! A ferry ride from Vancouver Island to Vancouver and an overnight stay with my Mom before hopping a flight across the pond to Heathrow. The revised timings of our flights was a bit harrowing.

Arriving at YVR Airport on Time but the Connection is late…

The SkyTrain took us to Vancouver’s airport in good time and we settled into the lounge to relax before our first flight. A message informed us our Vancouver to Calgary flight was delayed by 25 minutes due to the crew coming in late from another flight. This would make the connection time only 48 minutes. Speaking with WestJet ground staff, they informed me there were 18 other passengers heading to Heathrow on our flight. The timing was tight, but doable.

As is often the case, things did not go to plan and the incoming crew arrived even later than planned, but not too late. As we landed, the “welcome to Calgary” announcement on the plane included the Heathrow bound plane was boarding and passengers were to immediately to go to the gate. Naturally, the gate was on the other side of the airport, at least 15 minutes away.

Neither of us wanted to do an OJ Simpson run through the airport, so we briskly walked. It turned out we were the last two people to board the aircraft and as we approached the gate, we heard a “Absolute final call for Miller, party of two, the gates are now closing”. I’m not sure how serious they were as we had to wait on the jetway to board the aircraft as many other people were in front of us, likely those on our connecting flight. We both chose to use the facilities in the airport. They are much nicer in the airport vs the plane, just trust me on that one.

Our Seat Companion – a Parent with a Baby…

On the plane, we walked down the aisle. Our two empty seats in a row of three awaited us. We had selected a middle and window so we were beside each other for the overnight flight. Seated in the aisle seat of our row was the one passenger no one wants next to them. A parent with a babe in arms. I thought, eight hours in the air, overnight with a baby next to me, how much sleep would I get?

Settling in, the flight crew began closing overhead bins and then a crew member came up to the parent and said they had a whole row toward the back of the aircraft and offered to move the parent, baby and the spouse who was on the other side of the aisle. What a stroke of luck. I enquired if I could leave the aircraft to buy a lottery ticket but they said no. In the end, we had a row to ourselves and quickly spread out over the now empty middle seat on a fully packed airplane.

Arriving in England (we can read ALL the signs!)

Our flight was uneventful and landed on time. Customs and Immigration were straightforward, our Electronic Arrival Authorization (ETA’s) were in order. At the baggage carousel despite our bags likely being the last to load, they were also almost the last to come off. The Wi-Fi at Heathrow allowed us to look at options to get to Bristol, and coach was the simplest. WestJet uses Terminal 4, and the coaches depart at the Terminal 2/3 coach park. To get between the terminals there is a complementary train that runs frequently, however it was not quite quick enough to get the early coach.

We were faced with the option of a very expensive coach in 15 minutes, or wait for an hour for one that was 60% less. Since we needed lunch and a SIM card, we decided to do both at Heathrow. The savings on bus fare more than offset the cost of lunch and our AirHub ESIM. The bus ride was comfortable and had decent WiFi on the bus. We both managed to sleep a bit during the two-hour ride.

Arrival in Bristol

Arriving in Bristol, we passed by our hotel enroute to the bus station. Our impressions of the town as we drove in, despite the sunshine, was “gritty”. There seemed to be a number of places that could be spruced up and we noticed homeless people about. The 15-minute walk to the hotel took us through Cabot Circus, a major downtown shopping mall. All the usual stores one would see in any North American mall were represented.

We had found a restaurant we wanted to try for dinner, unfortunately when we arrived, it was closed with a sign saying they were sold out of food for the day. Luckily, this being England, there were a plethora of Public Houses around. Settling on the ‘Volunteer’, a local pub, we debated which beverage to have. Despite there being a description of all drinks on tap, it was difficult. Samples were offered and, after trying three of the local beers, I settled on an ale and Meg chose a cider. The Volunteer is what we look for when selected a venue. It is not a tourist pub and a bit out of the way. We were certainly the only people with accents. The food was excellent and most tables were having meals and lively conversations.

Given it had been a long day/night with an eight-hour time change, we called it a day.

Day II in Bristol

We were up and off to find breakfast, which we decided to have at St. Nicholas Market. Arriving at 9AM, there were some shops that were just opening and some that were already serving breakfast. Settling on “Crafty Beans”, we ordered an English Breakfast sandwich. It was freshly made, served piping hot and would hold us until lunch.

Our tour guide dressed as an Air Raid Warden, complete with a Brodie Helmet.

Using a new App (GPSMyCity), we started a self-guided walking tour from the market. Having seen a number of the sites on the tour, we headed back to the market to join our 11AM organized excursion of Bristol and the Air Raid Shelter. This tour, close to two hours, took us through some of the early history of the area, battles and figures that shaped the area. Then the highlight, the Air Raid Shelter. The tour guide was a one man show in this regard. He is fighting to have it declared a historic site and has spent countless hours sprucing it up.

A Glimpse of the Blitz

Heading down the many stairs, we learned what it was like during the Blitz. From queueing for a spot at the shelter, as not everyone could get in, to how long the bombings took place. Learning about incendiary bombs as well as percussion bombs and how the population took it all in stride. Along the walls were numerous period posters, including the classic “Keep Calm and Carry On”. I cannot imagine the terror of being bombed night after night. Bristol was the 6^th hardest hit city during the war. There is an aircraft factory in the region and the other side bombed the cities around it to weaken morale.

An interesting add on to the tour was the rock and roll section. A number of historic bands played at the Corn Market Hall in Bristol including the Rolling Stones, the WHO, Muddy Waters and others. It was quite the place in the 60’s. A bit of humour is that there is now a rock and fossil store where the stage used to be. I wonder how Mick Jagger feels about that?

Based on a recommendation of our guide, we lunched at the Market and then headed out on our own walking tour. The GPSMycity App allows you to create your own walks and incorporates GPS so you are less likely to get lost. On our tour we saw a famous Banksey piece of street art – Well Hung Lover.

Dinner was a picnic in the park overlooking the river at sunset.

Travelling to our Football Match

The walk to the train station was easy, as was boarding our train. We tried “Split Train” ticketing and it worked well, saving us a considerable amount of money. What it entailed was buying three tickets to get from A to B. We did not need to change trains, simply seats. There is a whole science behind it and certain apps will do this for a fee. It is 100% legal and based on dynamic pricing of seats on certain legs of the journey.

Arriving at the Birmingham airport, we picked up our rental car and headed to our hotel. Arriving at 11:30, we did not think we could check in, but owner said it was not a problem. We dropped our suitcases and then headed for a snack before walking to The Hawthorns to see West Bromwich Albion play. Kick Off was 12:30, vs the normal 3 PM, so it was a bit tight to get through the crowds. This time our seats were two rows off the pitch at what would be the blue line in a hockey rink. This close to the field, we could not only see the expressions on the players faces, but also hear what they were saying when they were near us. Of course, when they were on the other side of the field, we were not as fortunate.

The Other Side Scores 🙁

The view from our seats – two rows off the pitch

Around the 30-minute mark of the first half, Sunderland was awarded a free kick right in front of us. A right footed kick, that had the perfect spin, managed to get in under the top right corner to give them the lead. As it turned out, that was the only goal of the game as the Baggies could not find the back of the net, despite playing well. That 1 – nil score made me feel jinxed. I’ve been to three games at the Hawthorns and have yet to a West Brom goal.

When the game ended, we headed back to the hotel for a rest and a dinner out.

The Midlands – Day IV

Being a Sunday, not everything was open, however with a car, our options were more than they may have been otherwise. Scouring a map and reading about various places, Bridgnorth is the place we settled on to explore. A pleasant 45-minute drive took us to another market town that was bustling on a brilliantly sunny day. It turns out there was a classic tractor show and shine and many local enthusiasts were out to look at these historic machines. Not really being our thing, we headed to the castle and gardens.

While there, we saw a steam engine chugging along at the local station and decided to take a look. The train is used most weekends and we were able to have a ride in the engine. This coal-fired engine, dating from 1930, was certainly interesting. Fully restored to its past glory, it rattled and rumbled along, making hissing noises as steam escaped after driving pistons up and down. Since this was England, they had no issues with shovelling coal into the fire box of the train while we were in the cab driving along the tracks. There were only four of us in the cab, the driver, fireman, Meg and I (it was quite a tight fit!) The fireman opened the furnace and shovelled in coal to keep the fire hot. You certainly knew when the furnace door was opened.

Heading back, a quiet dinner and evening walk concluded our day.

Midlands Day V – Black Country Living Museum

One of the things we had hoped to do this trip was to see the Black Country Living Museum (BCLM). It is a period museum with numerous buildings set in various times from 1850 – 1960. You know you are getting older when you see things in a museum that your parents had in your home. The staff, or guides, are also dressed for the time they are representing. Everything was really well done. There were restaurants serving different foods and at least two pubs serving adult beverages. We could not have asked for a better day weather wise, full sun and +16C with no wind. Enthralled with the museum, we ended up spending six hours there.

The town as it may have looked in the 1940’s

Our highlight exhibit was the mine. Early in the morning we had visited the “shaft” where there were piles of coal. The coal would have been hauled up from the bottom of the mine where it would be sorted. BCLM has done a recreation of a surface mine, but that still goes down 30’. Groups of 25 take part in the tour and hard hats are required. The clearance is only 1.3 Meters in some places so there was lots of ducking under beams. Inside the mine were mannequins who explained the various roles and methods of mining the coal.

The Dangers of Coal Mining

It was dirty work and dangerous. Tunnelling took place which had miners dig out under the coal seam using supports to keep the coal from collapsing. Then, when the time was right, the supports were removed and the large overhang of coal came down. Unfortunately, sometimes the supports failed and miners were crushed. The tunnelling enabled larger pieces of coal to be mined which were more valuable than small pieces.

A functioning longboat that was used to haul coal. It was also used in the hit show ‘Peaky Blinders’

The Midlands were the heart of the Industrial Revolution. Conditions were terrible and average life span, according to one guide, was 17 ½. The air was foul with coal dust. It was said the area was black by day and red by night. The black would be the coal dust blocking out the sun. At night, the red was from the fires that everyone had going. Coal was used to run machines, heat homes, cook, fire blacksmith shops and more. As coal, iron-ore and limestone were all readily available, everything was done in this area. In addition to being called the Midlands, the area is often referred to as the Black County.

As we finished our tour, we gave thanks for the world we live in today and for those who forged the society of yesteryear to make the advancements now taken for granted.

Midlands Day VI – Travel to Morocco – A New Adventure for Us

Today was a travel day to Morrocco, with an afternoon flight. As the airport was an hour away and our need to be there by 12:30, we were limited as to our options of what we could do. In the end we settled on a hike at a nearby National Nature Reserve, Wren’s Nest. It was in this area that limestone was mined from open quarries and underground mines back in the day. There is nothing left of the mining operations, just a nice walk. There are a lot of fossils about, however we did not search for any.

Arriving at the airport, this was our first every EasyJet flight. The instructions indicated bag drop would open at 13:30 for our 15:30 flight. They also said get to the airport at least two hours before the flight. Arriving at 12:30, three hours before our flight, there was nothing we could do until 13:30. EasyJet is a discount carrier and there are no staff until the appointed time. So, we waited in line with a number of other people to tag our bags and head through security. It was a jovial atmosphere as most of the people were going on holiday (vacation to North Americans).

We boarded our flight and concluded this trip to England. Our plans, although not fixed, have us returning soon, if for nothing else but to hopefully see West Bromwich Albion actually score a goal. COYB – Come On You Baggies!

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