Woe unto me, Travel Journal, for I am sick! So is Rob. So is the lesbian couple from Tennessee in the other attic room at Merrie Olde Bede and Breakefaste. Four sick American homosexuals, all in a row.

York is a lovely and ancient town, which appears to have started out as a Roman fort back in prehistoric times. Constantine was crowned emperor there, and we all know what trouble he went on to instigate. I’m not sure that we’d all be better off worshiping Jupiter, but just maybe.

There is a monster Minster in York (masquerading as Westminster Abbey, except I don’t think it’s an abbey); we walked through there on one day and across the old city walls the next, but mostly we sat around and tried to recover and tried not to make any Old York versus New York jokes where the Old Yorkers could hear. Also, we tried to go to a psychic museum, but they didn’t seem to realize we were coming. We also missed the ghost tours, unfortunately, although I got the pricklies at a couple of points in the Minster and in the gift shop of the railroad museum.

We also had Yorkshire pudding. I’m not sure Bill Cosby would recognize it, but it was decent. York is nice.

P.S.: We were also suffering from Internet Withdrawal, but we're better now.