I had another child-free day out at the weekend.
I went to York with my old friend Patsy.
Selfies in the Museum Gardens!
My 20+ year friendship with Patsy is very forthright and honest. We have been taken for a lesbian couple on many occasions, which I think is because we do that affectionate bickering and teasing in which couples often engage.
And of course we laugh uproariously whenever that happens.
We've been on some great trips together over the years too. These photos are from holidays in the USA (1997) and Greece (1998).
Saturday's location might not have been quite as far-flung, but York is still a fine place to visit.
There are beautiful sights and incredible buildings at every turn.
Of course, the Minster is spectacular.
We enjoyed strolling the streets along with the many, many tourists, but really, we were on a mission.
Did I mention York has a lot of charity shops?
They're a bit pricey though. Out of nine - count them, nine - shops, I only bought one thing, a replacement sequin beret (my old one is getting decidedly ratty and I am thinking ahead to autumn.)
But I promised the nice man in the vintage section of the Sue Ryder shop I'd give them a mention. They have an upstairs room which is just like a vintage shop really, not ridiculously expensive, and very well stocked and displayed.
The nearest I'm ever going to get to a wedding dress!
Now Patsy was kind enough to buy me an early birthday present from this shop;
and since I am impatient, I am wearing it today.
A delicious 1970s cotton dress in great colours and contrasting prints. I love it.
And because Patsy is ridiculously generous, she marched me into Fenwicks to try on bras, and bought me this one.
I do like a decent bra.
I nearly flashed a little boy in the changing rooms, could have scarred him for life.
I had a really lovely day.
I was wrapped in a bubble of good humour and affection afterwards, sufficient to allow me to smile indulgently at all the extremely drunk people at York Station when I caught my train home. There had been a race meeting, and there were a lot of very rowdy folk, most of whom seemed to pile on my train. No one was being aggressive, it was all good-natured enough, but it's a good thing that I am not offended by swearing.
Mind you, I have had previous experience of York station on a race day. I was with the kids, and we watched in amusement when a woman flashed her be-thonged backside at her friends who were on a departing train; in return, one of the women on the train then lifted her top and squashed her bare bosom against the window.
My kids' eyes were out on stalks. Mine too, actually.
And I was worried about that little boy in the Fenwicks' changing room; in comparison, I am the epitome of ladylike dignity.
No. You're mistaken. That's not me.