The creative-juice bucket and bridge-stalking

Yesterday I went to Durham.

This is a place in Northern England.  It has rivers, bridges, a castle and geography which creeps around all over the place.  There was a bridge, right, and I crossed the river on it, and then when I went to cross back over the river - the bridge was gone!  It was in another place entirely!  You can't tell me that's normal.  There are bridges round here that have been in the same place for hundreds of years, but that one didn't even hang around for half an hour!

Anyway.  The castle stayed put for long enough for us to walk around it, but I can't vouch for what it did when our backs were turned and there was a cathedral where they buried the Venerable Bede.  They had to, because he was dead.

So, I've now been around the oldest Chapel in Britain (allegedly) and seen the most perfectly preserved Medieval Doorway in the World.

Here is a picture of me.  I am both Old and Perfectly Preserved.  And I found that standing on top of the bridge stopped it disappearing, probably because I am quite heavy.

Yes, I am poking out my tongue.    And it's a church just behind my left shoulder, not my dinosaur spines.  

One of the reasons for going to Durham (apart from it being our second wedding anniversary - that's the second anniversary of our wedding, not the anniversary of the second time we got married) was to refill what I refer to as the Creative Juice Bucket, which has been somewhat depleted of late.  I think I may have kicked it over one night on my way to the bathroom, there is certainly something moist on the landing, and I have been a little lacking in the creative department.

A little architecture, some history, just the thing to top up those missing juices.  So, I wandered around the streets of Durham (or rather, I stayed still and the streets wandered around), and little by little the drip of inspiration flowed into the rather attractive plastic bowl of invention, and by the time I came home I was rejuvenated and slightly sticky, but I put that down to the ice cream.

So, all in all, I can thoroughly recommend a change of scenery to provide the ideal laxative for those somewhat stiff and reluctant writing ideas.

But only go to Durham with a confident bridge-hunter, cos those buggers can really shift.