Malton

Back from Malton now. It's amazing what memories can be forged in a mere two day break.

Though we saw very little rain, the sky above us was essentially a king-sized light grey quilt, blocking out sunshine and ensuring that the colours of the world around us were rather muted. Driving over The Yorkshire Wolds on back roads from Driffield to Malton would have been pretty exhilarating in bright sunshine - with the vast wheatfields  still being harvested and The Yorkshire Moors brooding in a northerly distance.

On Tuesday, Shirley and I undertook a four mile walk east of The River Derwent. We parked Butch (new car) in the village of Westow and then a mile away, in the hamlet of Firby, we spotted some photogenic cattle which rather saved the day - photographically speaking...

The pilgrimage aspect of this break took me to my father's childhood home in Norton-upon-Derwent which sits directly opposite Malton. In fact, it's really just one big town community separated by the river and the railway track.

I also saw the grave of my paternal grandparents Thomas and Margaret. They are buried in the same plot where their youngest son, my Uncle Jack was interred in 1940 after being killed on active duty with The Royal Air Force. Thomas died at the age of 72 just a month before I was born. I left the three of them potted white chrysanthemums in remembrance.

Co-incidentally, my best friend Tony was also born and raised in Norton and Malton. We visited his childhood home and saw the place where he was born - a grand Edwardian residence in the village of Westow which once boasted a maternity unit. 

I also walked up to Malton Grammar School where my father and Uncle Jack were pupils in the late twenties/early thirties. Tony followed in their footsteps in the early 1970s when he joined the school's sixth form.

On a gable end wall near Malton's historical marketplace,  a  special  recipe has been proudly displayed. Can you see what it is for?