Journey To Alnwick

So Beccy and I headed off for an adventure in the North East of England. "Why?" you ask. Other than the fact that it doesn't pull on the purse strings too much, you can speak the language (roughly), and neither of us could be bothered with the hassle of doing the hokey kokey and travelling abroad, no reason (you put your right leg in and all that).
So off we jollied. Initially I had to stem my enthusiasm for driving when I suggested that we avoid the motorway and do our own B-Road Britain like Robbie Coltrane. When I eventually crashed google calculating directions I admitted that it wasn't one of my better ideas.
It wasn't all lost and we took a detour from the motorway for lunch in Richmond, a pleasant town, perched on a hill, and swarming with the Army. It is here that our tour begins (see pictures below).
We arrived at our accomodation, the Aln House, at about four o'clock, checked in and wandered into town in search of fayre. Which we found in short supply I'm afraid to say. We took a drink in the washy blue evening under the trees in the beer garden, and found a most expensive looking restaurant called "The Art House". We ate heartily, and well and as my Dad would say "eating nicely 8/10".

The church at Richmond stands central in the Market Square.	Behind it one can see the castle.	Beccy in the Beer Garden.
An ugly mug.