August 24+25 Lancaster

Took an early train from Carlise to Lancaster, and the very very nice Mr. James Gray let me check in at 9:00 a.m.  His divine property is about a mile or so away from the city centre, so I took a taxi from the train station to get here.  I mention this mundane fact because it is, need I say, uncharacteristic of me, but when I have a backpack and a heavy suitcase, and the walk is up hill, I give in to common sense.  En route, I asked the driver about fares from Hornby to Ingleton, destinations I have to get transportation to and from, and during our conversation about buses and taxis, said cabbie alerted me to the fact that this coming Monday is a Bank Holiday, which creates havoc with all forms of transportation: this runs, but that doesn't and the other thing runs on a Sunday schedule and so on.  This was so distressing that I could not think, so upon entry to my luxurious room, I had three oatcakes with peanut butter and jam, and then went out to take in the city. After my thought processes had realigned, I decided that since both segments are short—some 12 1/2 and 9 miles respectively—I would do the two day walk in one day.  Then I will have a jolly nice rest day on which I will go out to play.

I know some children who would not even think to ask whether this cake is edible, though in California it might carry a carcinogenic warning:

This is the Ashton Memorial. It was built by Lord Ashton, a linoleum magnate, as a tribute to his second wife.  To his third wife, he did not build a memorial.  Anyway, tomorrow, I am going to see what it houses.

Huh?

Maybe not so dangerous:

Second day in Lancaster went to the park that houses that big memorial, behind which is a little zoo of sorts.

Log hotel (for insects) because every creature needs a place to live or go on vacation:

Meerkats getting a bit of sun:

Big Bunny:

Bunny's friend looks a lot like doggie:

Fine dining for a butterfly, and enough for teeny little insects:

Inside the birdhouse:

Fish and a turtle swimming together:

It was market day in Lancaster, so the city was hopping.  Bought some delicious cheese, a loaf of bread that looked more promising than it tasted, went to a couple of art galleries, one of which was quite fine, managed to get worn out watch band replaced, visited a museum, the kind that reminds you how hard life was back in the day, picked up some salmon and grapes at M&S, then returned to B and B to review map for tomorrow and curse the horrible instruction book—e.g. of horrible: "With some luck, you might be able to find the stile in the electric fence." (Guess who is not following that route?)—and begin housekeeping chores of which there are many on these walks.  Oh, washed pants that smelled like ten kinds animals!