Due to more technical difficulties, this post did not actually post yesterday so here it is again, a day late. Rest assured though, the poem was written yesterday.
Today we had a very lazy day in York. We had a nice lie in, woke up to glorious sunshine and decided to try and find a nice coffee place somewhere to sit and be for the day and do a little bit of work on the next issue.
We saw a small place just off the Shambles market yesterday called Sand-Witches which looked fairly nice so we decided to try in there, thinking the coffee may be a little pricey but it would be a good place to sit while we decided what to do.
It is a music-and-film inspired cafe and is absolutely gorgeous from top to bottom. The building it is in was built in 1337 and they still have all the original beams on show as well as lyrics, film quotes, posters, vinyl covers and other quirky things all over the walls.
£1 for a coffee which is just unbelievable for a place like this. Similar places in Manchester are charging £2+ for this. We ate here too. A huge jacket potato with the best lemon-pepper chicken I have ever had with loads of salad – £2.80. I think this is my new favourite.
We stayed in Sand-Witches for about four hours, until they pretty much kicked us out to get closed up for the day.
After that we kicked around for a little bit before meeting up to interview Henry Raby, a poet from York who had plenty of very interesting things to say about the power of poetry in challenging the way people think about the world, with a particular emphasis on politics. He is also heavily involved with the Youth Theatre scene and it was really nice to meet someone passionate about what they do.
After that, it was on to a pub called the Guy Fawkes to watch a blues band who were absolutely phenomenal. Just a guitar, double bass and harmonica and the room was absolutely rammed with people, sounds, great vibes.
So yes, that was our day in York. Tomorrow is anniversary day so we’re going to be nice and chilled out again, I think. Back to Sand-Witches for sure.
Here is a poem.
weave between centuries-old
buildings and bookies.