Being the industrious folks we are, we started our day with a few hours at the British Library and got some work in. D was feeling a little disappointed in his overall progress on his conclusion, but I assured him we’d have plenty of opportunities for more work. After making a quick stop at the hotel to drop off our things, we were soon on the tube, headed towards Charing Cross for a visit to the National Gallery, one of the museums we didn’t get a chance to see on our last visit to London.

It was a relatively quiet day spent in York. After breakfast, we headed out to see inside York Minster. While one can walk up to the top, we were feeling cheap and decided to just have a look around. The immensity of the minster from the outside should be a predictor of the vastness on the inside; however, it still is somewhat breath-taking when you look up at these soaring ceilings and massive stone columns with stained glass windows lining the walls.

It was a nice ride through the country roads for another half hour, stopping only once in the village of Bulmor (at which point the bus actually had to do a 3-point turn in order to turn around and continue on its way). After a long narrow road and passing under two rather impressive gates, we arrived at a handsome looking building, which we discovered was actually the stables and carriage house for Castle Howard.

After settling in, we braved the mist and set out to explore the town. York definitely was a change a pace from Edinburgh, feeling distinctly smaller and less hectic. It was not long before we were faced with the utterly massive York Minster…I had not realized the scale of it, it’s huge! There was a large memorial service taking place, so we decided to save the inside tour for another day. We wandered through the largely pedestrian streets that were just packed with shops, mostly commercial with some mom-and-pop ones thrown in as well.

We awoke to a lovely breakfast of eggs and bacon and fruit. For David, he sampled black pudding, a Scottish specialty, which is essentially pig’s blood sausage. The flavour transported him back to Colorado and his grandmother’s blood sausage. After chatting with Kat, the owner, and some Aussie guests about the general state of world affairs (as is customary with such international gatherings). We were soon on our way, up the only road that ventures further into the Highlands. We drove through the Rest and Be Thankful Pass and through some amazing countryside.

After a brief flurry of packing and breakfast toast, David and I were out the door, making a quick stop at the printing place to print off some documents needed for the car rental. We hopped in a cab and were greeted with another jovial Scotsman, who entertained with information about the Highlands. Picking up the car rental was surprisingly painless, and we were soon met with our Vauxhall. D was eager to get driving and embrace the challenge of wrong-sidedness, although I had more than a little trepidation.

So my endeavour to feel less sick seemed to pay off in the morning, as my sore throat had largely subsided; however, my sinuses were definitely feeling stuffed. We had actually slept in ’til about 9am, which was novelty after the 6am starts of the last few days. David blissfully made breakfast (left-over trout with cream cheese on toast), and we eventually got ourselves together and out the door. First on the docket for the day was the Palace of Hollyroodhouse, situated at the end of the Royal Mile.

We awoke at a surprisingly decent hour in the morning, enjoying a spot of toast and jam before heading out to D’s first meeting of the day. We stopped briefly at the Victor Hugo deli to grab some needed caffeination. D noted that their lattes (at least at this place) tasted different, almost cinnamony. It was then off to the University of Edinburgh, so we walked across a large park known as the Meadows to reach the campus.

As we arrived at the coast, everything looked different–the architecture was much more Spanish or perhaps Italian, there were palm trees abound. The coast was beautiful, but as we edged closer to Nice, we passed through a spectacular thunderstorm, with a very heavy downpour of rain, which was a trifle ominous. Mercifully, when we rolled into Nice, the storm hadn’t passed over yet, and so we booked it to our hotel, just beating the rain.