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York can seem small, and perhaps it is to some degree. I personally think it’s a mass of culture crammed into a tiny area. If you know where to look or just have a talent for getting lost and confused then it’s very likely you’ll stumble across some hidden treasures around York.
One such spot that I bemusedly bumbled across, on a usual procrastinating wander, is possibly the most relaxing little place in the world. After ambling aimlessly down one of the winding alleyways that you always think you’ve been down before and that definitely comes out at Evil Eye, I came across Holy Trinity Church, just off Goodramgate (or ‘the charity shop bit’ as its more commonly known.) If you ever need to relax or just have a break from work then it’s a small paradise.
Quainter yet less tourist-trampled than some of the other areas can be, the small, ancient, architecturally wonky building sits all on its own, away from the street and enclosed by slightly younger buildings. This is why it's so special, there’s no noise at all, despite its city centre location and there is barely ever anyone else around. Every time you find yourself there it's as though the world has stopped still for awhile and is just waiting for you outside the enclosed courtyard, to step back into life when you’re ready.
Inside there are no gaudy explanation boards like those of the Minster, nor any of the streams of visitors. Its charms are much smaller in scale but its solitude keeps its atmosphere intact and, in a way, a little haunting (in a good sense). With its dark wooden pews, uneven flagstones and endearing appearance of a pile of crumbling masonry which has somehow survived all the war and trouble that York's past has thrown at it, it wouldn't feel out of place in a Poe tale.
If Gothic stone piles aren’t of that much interest to you then it is always interesting to do a spot of people watching. The few that are there might be people who have found the place themselves and evidently find it a little piece of calm out of work or, now and then, you might spot some more intriguing, if somewhat bizarre characters. I once saw possibly the most ancient woman on earth sat on a bench alone. She blended into the environment perfectly, pulling on a cigarette and just in her own thoughts. Where does this person come from and how do her lungs still work after what can only realistically be two hundred years of smoking? She can’t exist in the real world surely? Only there on the knackered old bench, framed by the stain glass, can she really live.
If you just take your time and know where to look, small pleasures and surreal people can make York so much more personal.
Matthew's next installment will be coming soon!
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