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"Durham" by J.M.W. Turner (c.1835)

You may be relieved to learn that I did not die on The Great North Road - though one or two of you may now be yelling, "Shucks!" at your screens. Since I departed for our forty eight hours in the county of Durham, masked American ICE agents have killed another decent citizen in Minneapolis. Not only did they do that, they also lied blatantly about what had really happened.

In Trumplandia, truth seems to be an inconvenient barrier to be negotiated. 

Please  rest in peace Nurse Pretti - you were the best of us, no matter what the fascist liars might say.

The house in Shincliffe was marvellous - so clean and roomy and warm and well-appointed and historical and "lived in". It was a joy to stay there even though when I was lying in the emperor bed, the empress seemed to be lying in an adjacent parish. 

And it was nice to spend time with Carolyn. She and I have always got along easily.

On Saturday, I walked into Durham and met up with the sisters in the cathedral. Then we drove to the coast and parked in the seaside town of Seaham that was once home to a productive coal mine.

We enjoyed  excellent meals out in Shincliffe's two  village pubs - "The Seven Stars" and "The Rose Tree Inn" and I began a colourful jigsaw called "The New Arrival" which Carolyn intended to finish after we had left.

I have not had chance to look at the photographs I snapped in the last two days and expect that they will feature in my next blogpost. 

So there we have it bloglurkers, I am back.