York was the next port of call, courtesy again of my travel agent and chauffer, Lara. This time we were joined by some friends of hers from back in Melbourne, who had joined the parade of Australians staying with her at her home in Guildford.
York is the town for anyone whose buttons get pushed by medieval architecture such as crumbling town walls, ancient keeps perched on hilltops, giant cathedrals and rambling tumble-down streets with half-timbered houses leaning in so far as to almost rest against one another.
I'm not sure I know anyone like that unfortunately.
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