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The villages in Yorkshire are like a living photograph, the rolling green hills keep company with clusters of hundred year olf cottages that hug to the rivers and streams. Paddocks are carved out by hedgerows and stonewalls that reach out for miles on end. There are fords and moors… it’s like a storybook.

I’ve been staying with Tara’s Nan Anne and her friend Tony in a cosy three-floor house off the main drag of Sleights in the North end of Yorkshire. If it weren’t for the sheer flights of stairs from room to room, the Yorkshire hospitality would be a mighty challenge for my belt. In the two days since arriving I’ve had two roasts, a four course chinese meal and been introduced to after-lunch dessert. I have managed to talk them out of a fry-up for breakfast every morning however, for which my arteries are grateful.

The front door and kitchen are on the ground floor, the sitting room and bathroom on the first floor and my bedroom on the second. My legs are like steel springs. The countryside is just breathtaking though, amongst its mists, fog and rain there are forests of fir trees that make me think of fairy tales and there is such a range of songbirds here that cast a spell on me. I could sit in the cold and listed to them for days. This is an England I could stay in.

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