I’ve lived in York for over 4 years now but due to a mixture of laziness, lack of funds, and the unrelenting, soul-snatching appeal of Netflix, I haven’t explored much of Yorkshire in that time.
So naturally, when my friend offered to take me to Beverley, I jumped at the chance. I was even more keen to go when I realised that Beverly was the name of an East Yorkshire town and not just some lady he knew.
So on the 5th of November (which I’m sure is an important date, but I just can’t remember, remember) we headed up to Beverley.
We spent most of the day walking around the Saturday market and exploring the quaint little town. That said, last year a new shopping complex opened in Beverley that is far from quaint (though is relatively little) and the locals I spoke to seemed half-heartedly unhappy about it but reluctantly willing to accept it, much like how we respond when Mark Zuckerberg decides to update Facebook.
The Beverley Minster (cathedral) was lovely, though not as big as York’s one. But as short people the world over often say while standing on their tiptoes, size doesn’t matter. The building was absolutely beautiful inside and outside like it was on a Dove Real Beauty advert. A highlight for me was the decidedly modern geometric marble floor in a building that was built 800 years ago.
One advantage that the Beverley minster has over its York counterpart is that it’s possible to get a good photograph of its exterior. The area around York minster is too dense with buildings and obnoxious trees to get a good picture of the mammoth building.
For the style fans, I’m wearing tweed trousers from Asos that I’ve rolled up twice at the hems, giving quite thick cuffs in a bit of a 90s-esque throwback. I’m also wearing black suede desert boots from Boohooman.com, a green tartan scarf from Gap and my friend’s oversized coat i.e. the coat is too big for me but I’m going to pretend it’s done on purpose.
After wandering around town for a couple hours we headed back to my friend’s house to get something to eat before heading out again to see the Guy Fawkes Day firework display. Getting to the fireworks was something of an ordeal as we found ourselves climbing over and under fences and racecourse barriers, respectively, and trudging through fields littered with horse poo. I was assured by my friend that this was all legit and not untypical of countryside life, but I took that with a pinch of salt. And a pinch of horse crap.
The fireworks were great though. We arrived a little late and basically had to follow the lights in the sky to find our way, but it was beautiful climbing a hill and gazing at the sky lit up with stunning colours and patterns. It would have made some great shots for the film/reality show that I’m still waiting to be made about my life.
I had a great time exploring Beverley – a town who’s density of bakeries by square mile rivals Starbucks in central London – and I enjoyed writing this too so I might try another post like this next time I visit somewhere new, especially if it’s a place with the name of a middle-aged woman.