Breakfast in a cafe in Otley - it was a little too early for the pubs to open so we made do with a full English and mugs of tea.
I love how these villages still have individual specialty shops: grocers; butchers (with award-winning pork pies); stationers (with an amazing array of magazines to suit every conceivable hobby); ironmongers; sports apparel; and a tobacconist - you may not even like smoking but the products have such seductive names - James's Blend; Black Cordial; Old Judge; American Black Cherry; Light Toffee; Curly Cut; Blueberry; Wharfdale Mixture; Broken Scotch Cake; and of course (my favourite) Best Shag.
The maze of cobbled streets and clutter of tiled roofs is as picturesque as anything in Europe.
And so to Scotland, where a boulder marks the wind-swept border, just so you know where you are.
And where we are, is Edinburgh - monuments, castles, cobbles and pubs galore!
At Grassmarket we join the general frivolity - honestly, Him Outdoors was in training - that's my pint he's gurning over. A bloke played classical guitar picking out all the old tunes that I learned in my youth and playing them a whole lot better than I ever did. It seems people arrive here in all sorts of ways - from tinted-window coaches to Dr Who police boxes.
It's encouraging to see the Union Jack and the Saltire fluttering proudly side-by-side in the stiff Edinburgh breeze. Princes Gardens are full of visitors and locals - the monuments to writers, thinkers and members of the Scottish Enlightenment. Him Outdoors poses beautifully with the Family Blackhurst on a park bench.
There are heaps more pictures of Edinburgh, but they'll be incorporated into Kate's Blog, with words. You have been warned!