So Laura and I have a 'magic date'. That magic date is December 13, 1642. On that day Abel Tasman was cruising around the South Pacific when some G said "Check out that land over there". And New Zealand was discovered by the Western World.
What has this got to do with anything you might be asking? Well, the United Kingdom is slightly older than New Zealand, and as a result our 'Magic Date' serves as a benchmark of sorts. A number that, anything smaller, signifies something older than the country we are from!
This was especially prevalent when we made the trip up to Yorkshire last weekend to visit Laura's family.
Upon arrival we were taken on a Tiki Tour of a number of small country villages. Most of the buildings dating back to the 11th Century! Casual churches from the 7th Century just hanging out next door to some guys house. Some guy who probably doesn't have the same reaction as we did whilst learning about the history of the small village.
We decided to head in to the city of York itself. A place that I had no preconceptions of. A place that, if I'm honest, I didn't know much more about other than that there was a Grand Old Duke at some stage who had a strange obsession with traipsing up and down hills. But, turns out York is one of the most amazing places I have every seen. Unlike anywhere else I had been. Far removed from the sprawl of London, and even further removed from the glitzy, young United States where we have just spent time.
Laura and I were impressed enough by the rows of Elizabethan, Edwardian, and Victorian houses on the outskirts of town. When suddenly we rounded a corner, straight into Age Of Empires! The huge castle wall with its great gaping gate loomed before us. The strange oxymoron of cars driving through a scene from Game Of Thrones. We turned right and drove along the great embankment with will high atop. Turns out York is a walled city. A fact that must have slipped past me in Great British History Class!
Getting out of the car we looked up at Clifford's Tower. A small keep on top of a steep mound. Proceeding through the town we were constantly baffled by the buildings that engulfed us in their comforting, crooked walls. Turdor, Saxon, Norman, and just about any other era you could imagine all smashed together in an absolute shambles of a city. In fact, there is an alley, not too dissimilar from Diagon Alley, called The Shambles.
After an entire weekend comparing northern England to the 'magic date' we realised that we now truly live in an old country. A country with proper history. A history that we will now precede to cram into our brains, so that next time we go somewhere like York, we actually have some knowledge of the place.
1642, barely out of nappies!
Labels: UK 2015
