It's time for an unsullied look at York's most objectionable features (or so we're told).
Ah, York. The grand old city where history seeps from every crevice and cobblestone. A place where the ancient mingles with the modern, and where every corner seems to hold a story, usually involving Vikings or ghost tours. But let's not get bogged down with the typical tourist fluff. I'm here to tell you about the real York. The York you won't find in your glossy travel brochures. The York that includes places like Acomb, Foxwood, and Derwenthorpe.
Now, Acomb. For some of you, Acomb might as well be in the Arab Emirates, but it's actually not. Sure, it's a little bit rough around the edges, but there are worse places -take Foxwood, for instance. Acomb suffers from a bad reputation for seemingly no reason in my opinion. Yes, there are plenty of "roadmen" peddling about on their BMXs, looking like they've stepped straight out of a low-budget gangster film. And occasionally, you might spot a horse and carriage full of gypsies clip-clopping down the street. But that's part of its charm, isn't it? It's like a scene from "Peaky Blinders," only with fewer flat caps and more Nike tracksuits.
People tend to think of York's city centre and "The Shambles" when they hear the word "York." The Shambles, aptly named for being a slow, pedestrian-riddled, Potter-headed photograph opportunity for Chinese tourists, is as uneven as a cheese rolling contest and twice as chaotic. But venture out a bit, and you'll discover York's hidden gems, like Acomb. It's absolutely lovely this time of year. Well, lovely might be stretching it, but it's certainly interesting.
Then there's Derwenthorpe. Now that place is an enigma. I recently found myself at the Derwenthorpe festival, entirely by accident. You know that scene in "Get Out" where all the house guests look at the protagonist like he's dinner? Well, it wasn't like that at all. Everyone was lovely, almost unsettlingly so. Derwenthorpe is this bizarre utopia where every house seems to nestle into its own little pocket of suburban perfection. It's all cycle tracks and manicured lawns, a bit like living in a posh IKEA catalogue. And these cycle tracks connect pretty much everywhere in the city, if you're brave enough to follow them.
York, to me, is a bit like the world in miniature. There's always somewhere new to explore, a fresh alleyway to stumble down, a hidden pub to discover. It's wonderful, really. This might be turning into a love letter for York, which, aside from all the horrible demon people - by which I mean anybody on the road - and the potholes and the lack of sunlight, is entirely warranted.
So next time you find yourself in York, don't just stick to the well-trodden tourist paths. Take a detour to Acomb. Embrace the BMX-riding youths and the occasional horse-drawn carriage. Wander through the pristine streets of Derwenthorpe and marvel at the eerie perfection of it all. York is so much more than its historical landmarks and ghost stories. It's a living, breathing city with quirks and character to spare.
Kommentarer