Best of times, worst of times

Far from the madding crowd in rural North Yorkshire, one might occasionally be inclined to indulge in the remembrance of times past, and believe life was happier and easier.

However, occasionally we are reminded that a life without modern draniage is an aspect of our glorious history best passed by, preferably with a handkershief pressed firmly to the olfactory organ...

This being North Yorkshire in June, we suffered a bit of a sudden downpour the other day, at which point we found our heroic but antiquated drains yet again unable to cope (do you hear me, Yorkshire Water, do you?) and Main Street took on the appearance of the Nile in flood. (I may have exaggerated a little here, but only for dramatic effect.) 

This does not mean that there are not worthy traditions from a golden age worth preserving, and the roaming fish and chip van is surely one of them. Now sadly seen only rarely in the wild, we are privileged to host a member of the species each week. Lots of lovely traditional English calories to off-set the wretchedness of the drains.

And now it's summer we even get an ice cream van too - provided it can get through the floods!

Mmm. Tasty.