Dip your sponge in Nostalgia!

I first heard the words 'dip your sponge' thirty years ago when I met my husband Dave.  He can't remember where it came from but 'you've got to dip your sponge' became a regular family saying. Sponge dipping is a rule in our house and at least one day each weekend is devoted to it in some way. Maybe its just a walk or a visit to a bookshop, the cinema or Sunday Lunch at a new pub, but often its a day-trip to an unfamiliar town or county or to an event or festival of some kind.  One of Dave's favourites is a gathering of the old steam trains.  He loves the sight, sound and smell of them and I have to admit there is a romance in travelling in the old-fashioned way - nice and slowly to appreciate the countryside, in comfortable seats with thick oak panelling to run your hands over and imagine all those travellers who made journeys at that same table before you.

Last weekend we visited a quaint village called Grosmont in North Yorkshire. A tiny place dominated by the prettiest station I have ever seen, but with everything you need for a good day out including the sunshine. After I had watched the third steam train pull in and out, I left Dave to it and went for a wander down the narrow street.  I found a crooked-floored bookshop crammed to the rafters with heaps and heaps of second-hand books all costing not much more than a pound.

Books are my oldest passion.  I learnt to read really early and had piles of them by my bed from the age of five.  They are my escape, my teachers, my entertainment, my travel companions and a lot more besides.  A couple of hours later I emerged with an armful and settled in the sun to read them while Dave went to investigate the price of train tickets.  Every now and then a whistle would blow and a cloud of smoke billowed across me as I broke off to tune into the chuff-chuff of a departing train.  All the children waved madly from the windows and the families still on the platform noisily broke out their picnics or headed to the tea-rooms or pub gardens.  It it seemed to me like an advertisement for an idyllic traditional English day...but maybe one from about fifty years ago.