Horseless carriage

Edit: Of all the silly things I put "Horse carriage" instead of "Horseless Carriage" in both title and text. Now corrected.

That's what it said at the top of our bus tickets to Grassington today: "Horseless Carriage services".

It was "Pride of the Dales" service 72, free to us bus pass users. Friendly pilot Joe's style matched his smile.

We'd travelled up from Skipton in lieu of (a) cruising in the wet, or (b) sitting in Erin Mae all day, or (c) something better that we couldn't think of.

A couple of decades ago we'd had a very nice caravan holiday near Grassington, and wanted to pay our respects. It's a picture postcard place, even in the wet.

The village depends a good deal on Yorkshire Dales tourism, but it was nice to find evidence of a thriving local community, as we visited the "hub" and library.

CoffeEco, especially the upstairs room, was a great place for a Mocha while watching the rain through the windows.

 Then we bought a couple of rolls for our lunch from Walkers.

They were so good and such value that I went back afterwards to thank the lady who'd made them.

The National Park Centre just a short way from the centre was well worth a visit – with the benefit of having a place where you could eat sandwiches under cover. Then we wandered back up to the Folk museum, stashed full of mining memorabilia, the odd fossil and things your grandparents might have used in their youth.

I was intrigued to see a 1969 slide-rule, something we'd been discussing a few weeks ago with someone under 40, whose incredulity was a pleasure to watch.

By the time we'd finished in the museum we felt we'd done what we came to do, but there was the best part of an hour before the bus home. We decided to patronise the other café on the main street as a good alternative to getting soaked on the seat by the bus-stop.

A less successful visit, I'm afraid. The tables were so close together that anyone carrying a bit more ballast than ourselves wouldn't have stood a chance, and I didn't have the nerve to ask what it was about the Earl Grey teabag that made it worth 30p more than the one containing Yorkshire Tea. Win some, lose some. It kept us dry and warm for 40 minutes until the horseless carriage arrived.

Not out of place in the Folk museum would have been the trio who were the main item at Skipton Folk Club last night.

INPO (stands for "in no particular order", but we didn't learn why they're called that) are an a cappella group who sing a range of songs from the folk tradition, music hall, and giddy nonsense they've set to music. They were very good fun, and everyone joined in the joining-in parts with enthusiasm.

I think we've been coping with the Yorkshire wet pretty well.