The ‘Apple of my Eye’
Can only become ‘Cider’
After the ‘Cider Maker’ has trampled me.
I surrender my spirit
Like apples to this trampling
So my inner most heart
And dance with joy.
Desormais…henceforth…that is the motto over the gatehouse at Skipton Castle. It was probably the first word of French that I learned as a child and almost certainly the first I remember seeing written… even though it is written in stone. I had been there any number of times with my grandparents and, even though it is a castle and much younger than my normal preference, it does hold a fairly special place in my heart.
I had been looking forward to Skipton for a while, at least in some respects… it held the hotel where we would spend the last night of our journey. Not that I was in any hurry for the day to end. We had left the motorway in Cumbria and driven cross-country through the Yorkshire Dales, my home county. This was familiar territory and, although less majestic perhaps than Scotland, it is equally beautiful.
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