After a pleasant breakfast laid out for us (the cat barged her way in and jumped on a chair, resting her chin on the table to gaze wistfully at the Marmite jar), I returned to the stones and even walked to the burial mound I’d spotted yesterday.
An older sheep freaked out when I neared some lambs and brayed, calling the lambs into a retreat. I dropped and retrieved my lens cap in my mad dash from the evil-looking sheep but I doubt it would have charged. Glad to leave all that poo behind!
|The burial mound.|
As we left the unattended B&B, we watched a school group file through the property to the stone circle. On we drove (a brief stop at a Shell at some point - horrifying toilet) and made it to Whitby before the 2pm check in.
We decided on Whitby Abbey in the meantime - the rain worsened, of course. We decked ourselves out in rain gear, flashed the OVP at the ticket office and began our audio tour. The toilets, incidentally, were even worse than the one we used at the Shell. My guide died and so did the next one so I didn’t bother with it, instead struggling to take photos under a protective but broken and swaying umbrella. It rained. Yuck. The SLR lens is a very large target.
|An inspiring sight.|
I took fewer photos because of this but Whitby Abbey is impressive and desolate (also fucking cold). I can see how these ornate ruins (the pillars are quite a bit rougher and more worse for wear than those in Westminster Abbey!) inspired many tales, including Bram Stoker’s Dracula.
|Fortunately, no vampires were harmed in the taking of this photo.|
Speaking of, there is currently a 19th century gothic festival on in Whitby. Our first clue was a couple in the Whitby Abbey gift shop - one of which wore a funky, awesome coat.
We then checked into warmth. Two separate double rooms! Ah, no snoring. Apparently I growled at Cazy last night when he went to the toilet. Anyway, he walked to town (I only made it to Costcutter) and I caught up on TV shows.