Monday 28 September 2009

Don't read this

Shhh. Don't tell anyone. Don't even read this, in case you're tempted to come to Lincoln: because Lincoln is a delight, a gem, a treasure; and it seems that hardly anyone knows about it.
Ok, it was Sunday afternoon when we got here, but I was assured that the streets in the old town, the Uphill, are always quiet, that even in summer there are no crowds, and that because this small city isn't on the way to anywhere else, the coaches don't come here.
That means these steep narrow streets, higgledy-piggledy brick, stone and timbered houses, and glorious Cathedral are an absolute joy to wander around and discover. Not that we had much time for that: one afternoon. It's a crime.
Still, thanks to Brian, who has a comprehensive knowledge of the place and its history, as well as a mischievous line in jokes, we had a crash course in St Hugh and his swan, the swineherd and his 16 silver pennies and the imp with the 20p spotlight. And that was just the cathedral - to find out about the creepy prison chapel, the gentleman executioner and Captain Birdseye vs the Roman arch, you'll just have to come and ask him yourself.
Or, rather, don't.

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