Burnsall

Rarely have I felt more in need of a break, so the prospect of a few days away with S is just what’s needed.

Avoiding the worst of the traffic by cutting cross-country, we arrive at Burnsall in time for an early dinner. The timing is fortunate as it allowed for a decent post meal walk along the river, which given the quality of the food was well needed (man, I’d forgotten how good their rice pudding is).



I’ve never seen the Wharfe run so high or fast. Evidence of flooding is here and there, but fortunately the Red Lion, a former ferryman’s inn, has escaped any of the problems.



Pretty hot on the countryside code round here too (look carefully at the top bar of the gate)…

Back at the inn, we relax in the lounge, drink tea and coffee and engage in people watching our fellow guests (we figure “maybe I should have mentioned I’m allergic to white flour” woman is going to be good value for money).