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Pork Pies

Now to report on my very interesting and unusual August. It started on Friday 1 August when I flew to Liverpool. A nice weekend as usual with Barry and Pam plus dogs! I also met a duck who had a liking for Gin ‘n Tonic! Barry drove me to Silsden on Sunday. Thanks to both.

Fran and Geoff had altered their upper floor. The second guest bedroom had been incorporated into the master bedroom, so Warren gave me his small, but comfortable house while he stayed with his parents.  A nice arrangement for it fitted in with my theme of staying in the area and not wandering too far. 
On Monday 4 August I took a bus and stepped out at Skipton. This is about 7 miles north-west of Silsden and is famous for its medieval castle, open market on the main street, and as the gateway to The Dales. This refers to a large national park called the Yorkshire Dales. 
I walked from the bus station into the main street. It was market day so full of stalls and people from the surrounding farms and villages. I walked further until I reached a left/right split in the road where it meets a church near the entrance to the castle.
I went into a small butcher’s shop and asked for 6 pork pies. The shop is owned by a lady and I was served by her nephew. He apologised for only having 4 but I could have 2 from the batch about to come out of the oven. How could you say no. It is now the place where I do pilgrimage to the art of making the perfect pork pie. 
I took them all across the road to the church yard and a seat overlooking the main street. I took out one from the bag and stared at it. It stared back! I took that to be an invitation to sink my teeth into it. That is just what I did. Mmmmmmhhh……..the taste…. and how the juice/gravy dribbled from my lips. You have to experience this for yourself. But only from this shop!
I later wandered around the centre, enjoyed the sunshine and atmosphere before boarding a bus and my return to Silsden. There I placed the rest of the pies onto the table, much to the delight of my hosts.