Leaving Durham was a bit more "exciting" than we had planned. "We don't take plastic," said the inn keeper. Nor would she have wanted my cash, U.S., if I had had enough. Nor would she have wanted a check on an American bank if I had had one. So we headed for the money machine. I withdraw as much as I could. Then Anne and John Robert withdrew many pounds each. And I carried a very thick wad of 20 pound notes back to the Georgetown Town House.

On the way we stopped at Marks and Spencer to pick up a picnic. We were planning to be on the road at lunch time and an English public house meal did not seem a very enticing prospect. So we got bread, water, fruit, chips, cheese, and grass [lettuce in various flavors]. It may not seem an exciting lunch, but it would be eaten in exciting surroundings.

The innkeeper was handed the wad of bills. Then we were off.

Each bishop of Durham is handed a very handsome sword during his installation. It is a sword from the 12th century which sits in the treasure room of the Cathedral when not otherwise being used to install a bishop. The sword is a way of remembering the defeat of the first threat to the bishopric -- the Sockburn dragon. He threatened the kingdom. And a Conyers killed the dragon at Croft on Tees with his sword, which he then presented to the bishop. We were off to Croft on Tees [which happened to be pretty much on the way] to visit the very spot where the dragon was slain. The Tees is a shallow river, moving slowly toward the sea -- which makes it particularly good for a young person who would like to dip her hands into the water and mud. The locals seem to have lost the story of slaying the dragon, but we were told that their's was a parish church at which Lewis Carrol was vicar for a time. And Lewis Carrol knew the story of the Sockburn dragon because it inspired his jabberwocky. We saw the church if not the battlefield. There seemed no remaining scars on the countryside -- from the battle.

As we were pulling out of town a sign pointed to Sockburn. Sockburn is too small to be on even an English map. But we wanted to see the dragon lair. So we did a U turn and headed down the road to Sockburn. It was a one lane road with nice hedge rows along the way. It was designed to make driving exciting -- especially in a larger than average English vehicle. But on we went. After several scenic miles we got to the sign -- NO FURTHER, by order of the Sockburn estate. We are not sure what was over the hill, but this must have been the dragon's lair. They were repairing a very old building as though it might become human habitation again. We speculated that this could be the beginnings of the Sockburn dragon amusement park -- just a few short miles from the Teeside International Airport. But we were too early for the memorial to the dragon [and tee shirts] so we turned again and headed back for the highway and off to Yarm.

Joan was a young woman when she married Christopher, who was an older man at that point, and she outlived him by 35 years. Christopher died in 1451 and she died in 1486. That made her mistress of Sedbury; a position she exercised for a couple of decades. Finally [we speculate], she decided to give the children space and moved to Yarm. It may have been when Christopher, her son, died and Agnes, his wife, remarried Richard Ratcliffe. We really do not know why she moved or even exactly when, but we do know she moved. Joan was both religious and rich, which means she showered the church with money and they showered her with privileges. Three different bishops extended to her the right to have worship in her own house. She did not go to the church; the church came to her. And for the last years of her life it was the church at Yarm that came to her. So we wanted to see that church.

Yarm is a bustling village -- two streets and lots of traffic on one of them. The church was on the other. It bordered the Tees, and we decided to have lunch before exploring the church. We found a platform next to the river and spread out our meal. The ducks and fish entertained us as we ate. According to the information provided by the public library the oldest part of the church was the tower and the west wall, which dated from the 12th century. There had been a school built by a Conyers in the 16th century. The Conyers really got around -- partly because they were particularly prone to large families. The doors of the church were locked, and there was no number to call. Joan had been buried before the altar; at least that is what she requested in her will. But we were not able to determine if any notice of her life remained.

Lunch finished and the church walked around we headed for Acklam. Acklam was the central Boynton holdings for much of the centuries from the 13th to the 17th. Ingram married Joan de Acklam, and she inherited the land there when her father died. One hundred and fifty years later Thomas was known as lord of Acklam. And Acklam was one of the major losses when Henry joined the insurrection against Henry IV -- though it was returned to the family twenty years later. Eventually, in the 1600s, Matthew sold the land to the Huddlestons. But it was Boynton family land from 1231 to about 1625. The church has an effigy of Margaret, the mother of Henry and Christopher, which we saw two years ago. After one false start we even remembered the pub on the corner where you needed to turn off the main street to get to the church three or four blocks away. Unfortunately, the church was locked. Check the vicar's house, we thought. The vicarage was empty. And no number to call other than the number of the vicar. It was disappointing. Anna would not get to see Margaret's effigy; we would not get to see it again.

Then it was off to Whitby. That involved a drive across moors. You leave the rolling countryside of Croft on Tees, Yarm, and Acklam and you find yourself in a countryside of much steeper grades. You certainly would not call them mountains, but they may be about the only "mountains" England has to offer. Sheep seem to be the only thing that grows. The hedgerows turn to stone fencerows. And there is this odd pattern of land. On one side of the road the vegetation was dried out and brown. On the other side of the road the vegetation was green enough for sheep. Or the change could occur between two adjacent fields. It is very odd, and we do not know the explanation.

Then we were at Whitby. That is a very different place.