Big sister

On to Pickering in North Yorkshire but not before calling in York for an hour when I found these Morris dancers strutting their stuff. It seemed odd to find them in the middle of winter. I always associate English Morris dancing with sunny days and pubs, not that there's any shortage of pubs in York and I'm sure that was the next stop when the handkerchiefs and bells were put away. I'm not quite sure why, but I was drawn to the poster of the girl on the wall. I guess it's the eyes - an Orwellian big sister.

A little earlier I'd passed a great folk trio called Blackbeard's Tea Party. These chaps could really belt out a tune. I should have stayed in York but wondered if I'd be able to get a nice sunset on the North Yorkshire moors. It wasn't that kind of a day and the light had all but gone when I reached Pickering but I drove on a way all the same to visit the moors, then turned round and now I'm sitting by a wood stove in the White Swan before dinner this evening with the rest of our shooting party - no not cameras this time, but driven pheasant.