No (Free) Lunch
On the first Saturday in January, we began with a hotel breakfast before catching the train to York. One hates to waste paid-for food. We sat next to a gregarious Australian couple dressed to the nines who were on some kind of cross-many-continents odyssey. It was a two-and-a-half-hour ride, so we had splurged on first class, but there was no hot food for lunch because they were very sorry to tell us that they had a problem getting the food delivery onboard. So, no lunch at all. First world problem, I know.
The Red Lion Pub and The Shambles
After securing our lodging at the Holiday Inn (i.e. ditching our luggage), we walked to a trendy and inviting street food area covered by a massive tarp. Yet, even with a couple of outdoor heaters, it was far too cold for us Floridians to patronize.
That is when we hoofed it to the Red Lion pub. This pub’s claim to fame is being the oldest pub in York. From the 13th century! As a bonus, it has a priest hole. For those unfamiliar with the term, a priest hole is pretty much what you might guess. During the persecution of Catholics, priests had to hide to save their lives when homes and businesses were searched by Protestant authorities, and the Catholics created secret spaces in walls and floors usually just big enough for one or two to stand upright till danger passed. You can read more about priest holes and the many points of pilgrimage in York in John’s illuminating blog post. The Red Lion is heated in one room by a 13th-century bread oven, which is where we sat. Right in front of the oven fire and under the requisite dart board were two convivial patrons who seemed to be regulars.
Duke of York pub was the place for sticky toffee pudding dessert.
On a recommendation, we went to The Shambles, a charming area of half-timbers homes and shops and curved cobbled streets. We spied the humble shrine of St. Margaret Clitherow, in her former home. It was nearly as hidden as a priest hole and yet in plain sight. Inside, we learned a bit about her and said a prayer.
Who was St. Margaret Clitherow?
If you, like us, did not know about St. Margaret Clitherow, she was born in 1556 and was an English recusant Catholic and martyr. Risking her life by sheltering priests and holding secret Masses in her home during Elizabeth I’s reign, St. Margaret was ultimately arrested in 1586 and executed by being crushed to death (!). In 1970, she was canonized as one of the Forty Martyrs of England and Wales for her steadfast faith and courage.
An ever-present Sainsbury’s set us up with evening snacks.
The Magi are Here
The following morning, we had coffee and tea (Laura decided to go for the latter in the land of Darjeeling and English Breakfast) in our room. Then we it was Mass at St. George Church around the corner from the hotel. Three children were costumed as the Magi.
We went to the Mason Arms pub for Sunday roast lunch where we were served by a sweet waitress named Anna.
Planning the post-London part of the trip and watching the movie “Where Angels Fear” rounded out the day.
Taking a Load Off
Now it was laundry day, and we found a laundromat at Haxby Road. Laura found £8 a load to be a lot. We took the bus there and then an Uber back.
Classic fish and chips at the Sea Catcher was a low-cost lunch. Perhaps making up for the high-priced washing. Dinner was takeout gyoza and chicken curry. The Indian fare here is fantastic as you might imagine. Even better than you imagine.
York Oratory and York Minster (and a Tweed Vest)
Paradiso Dolce Salato, an Italian-run place, provided a bountiful and nostalgic breakfast (yes, we were missing Italy already!). We met Anna and Joyce at Canvas hair salon. who were kind and helpful, yet Laura couldn’t get her hair cut because one must have a consultation appointment first, and we could not fit in that and the actual appointment prior to leaving town. (This is why she cuts it herself.)
We tried to walk the York Wall, but it was closed due to bad weather. A huge antique consignment shop was the runner up activity At York Oratory we were able to go to adoration, the Angelus, and Mass ad orientem. We spoke with Fr. David after. He is a young priest who came from the upper class, it seems (and apparently unusual for a man of the cloth). A lady gave us miraculous medals after Mass.
We went to a few bookstores in search of a pilgrim guidebook to York that had been recommended by Fr. David but discovered it was out of print. Time for a snack at the Hole in the Wall restaurant. At the York Minster we took a tour. We saw the crypt/undercroft with the museum. We prayed for everyone at the tomb of Saint William of York.
John bought a tweed vest (on sale!) at Clarkson’s. Feeling British. Channeling Bilbo Baggins. Following a drink at the Royal Oak, we had dinner at Bengal Brasserie (good, not great) and walked home.
Exploring snickelways” was so much fun. Three words combined to make just one. A snicket is a passageway between walls or fences, a ginnel is a passageway between or through buildings, and an alleyway is well, an alleyway. Local author Mark Jones coined the term in 1983 in his book “A Walk Around the Snickelways of York.”
Birdman of the Museum and Norwegian Vibes
Now it was Wednesday. Heading through Coffee Gate, we were smitten with the “Ask Italian” restaurant for lunch. (As I mentioned, we were hankering for the old country.) It is a cavernously large, classy place, with ceilings that soar.
Time to walk off the pasta, and we headed to the York library and the York museum. There was an odd attraction near the museum. A birdman, like a modern-day St. Francis, fed the pigeons, and they landed on his head and shoulders en masse.
Later we explored Saint Olave’s Norwegian Church, which is now Protestant. John has a good bit of Norway in his heritage, so we were vibing on that, and it was the perfect place to poke around and ponder those who’ve gone before us.
Enjoying gingerbread coffee and tea at Costa Coffee was a nice break from the cold weather.
Bar Convent is Not a Bar
Next we went to Bar Convent. Founded in 1686 by members of the recusant community, the convent became a center for Catholic education and mission, running a girls’ school, providing shelter for priests, and preserving recusant traditions. Today it houses a museum, hidden church, priest holes and relics of two murdered priests and of Saint Margaret Clitherow.
We met a lovely lady named Monica in the gift shop who replied to our query about whether or not the upstairs museum was worthwhile in a warm but understated British way that, “why yes, yes I do think so.” She was 1,000 percent correct. They managed to capture so many stories of the persecutions and the heroes who bravely preserved the faith in a creative, in-depth, and attractive way, and they seemed to have perfectly preserved the convent and house. The story of Mary Ward was fascinating in and of itself.
Who Was Mary Ward?
We learned that Mary Ward lived from 1585–1645 and was an English recusant Catholic gentlewoman and foundress of the Institute of the Blessed Virgin Mary/Loreto Sisters. She is best known for pioneering an active apostolic religious life for women—focusing on education, missionary work, and social outreach—at a time when the norm for religious women was to be cloistered. Her ideas influenced Catholic female education in England and abroad. The educational mission at Bar Convent, the oldest surviving Catholic convent in England (founded 1686), embodied the recusant and educational traditions Mary Ward championed.
On this, our last night, we had a drink and a bite (with Anna who was now our friend) back at the Mason Arms. And that is just what York was like – the arms of a hug.
