The Best Kind of Strange

I expected it to feel strange to have people from home visit me here, and it surely did. I absolutely could not believe what I was seeing when I saw two baggage laden, jet-lagged tourists standing curiously outside of a tube station in central London. They weren't just any tourists, with their heads swivelling around, taking in the sights and scanning the growing crowd. They were the tourists I'd been looking for since April, and there they were, right where they were supposed to be.
There was no one in that city happier than I was.
After Mom got the next picture in the series of me crying in public, we spent an hour at the National Gallery before boarding the train to York. When we were first planning this trip, York was the place that I enjoyed the most of those I'd seen, so, to York we went. Well, and it was convenient to the few things that they had requested to see.
In the afternoon, we wandered the charming streets of York and got to the Minster just in time for evensong, which was great as we kind of took our time leaving and saved on admission! After I got tired of poking them in the ribs to keep them awake, we turned in.
The next day we got another dose of charm and I think just enjoyed each others company. York has a lot of small churches that all have incredible histories and stories. I'm sure bigger nerds have nerded out about them, but we stumbled upon about five without trying. I also found the coolest street art I'd ever seen (pictured somewhere).
We went into the National Railway Museum, which, if you like trains, it's the place for you. Even if you have little more than a passing interest in trains it can entertain for an afternoon. But seriously, that's a lot of trains and train paraphernalia, but with a distinct lack of the Hogwarts Express. I'm just saying.

With tentative pedal pushing, steering, and indicating we retrieved our rental car and headed out of the confines of pedestrianism. After a few wide right turns, roundabouts, and curb checks, Dad became a pro.
Consultation with the map led us to search for any indication of anything exciting ever happening in the village of Stamford Bridge. See, in 1066 a battle occurred here that kind of changed the course of British history. Same 1066, different day. England was successfully defended against the Vikings at Stamford Bridge which effectively ended 'the Viking problem'. But they were so busy doing that, that when the Normans showed up at Hastings, every survivor of Stamford Bridge had been running there from Yorkshire (quite a distance) and were so out of breath that William, well, conquered.

One might assume that this kind of thing would be commemorated with a visitor center, memorial, statue or, at least a damn plaque, but alas, there is no mention of anything happening in Stamford Bridge. I mean, just look at Gettysburg. Another battlefield worthy of commemoration, and there is rightly no shortage of it there. But to feel the moving experience of Stamford Bridge, simply look at a row of houses, or a field of cows. I think I'll start a campaign to mark the significance of this place.
Okay, well I didn't mean to go on and on about a place where we stayed for 10 minutes and saw nothing, I haven't even gotten to the candy factory yet!