Alston Rocks.
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So,
Another trip to Alston.
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It is like being on a marvellous film set.
Suitable for a meeting with Dracula, or your doppleganger, just like Whitby.
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Always an atmospheric place with it’s Market Square, cobbled streets and old houses from the 17th C and 18th C falling towards each other, and I like it a lot, but I can imagine it being a dangerous place to stop the coach at night.
You know what I mean.
You tell the driver to halt and say you will get out here and find a hotel for the night.
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He says”Oh no Sir, I wouldn’t do that. You should definately go on to the next town, it will be much safer for you there.”
“Oh no, it’s getting too late and we are very tired.”
“On you own head be it then Sir”
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Your boxes are roughly tossed down into the road and off races the bug-eyed driver, Lashing the horses to top speed.
Then, puzzled, you pick up your cases and make your way through the moonlight to the welcoming lighted windows of the Inn.
Conversation stops and blank faces turn to the door, all locals wearing neck scarves.
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The last thing you will remember is starting up from deep sleep to say “someone is turning the doorhandle”
Whoahhh!
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God, I used to love those Hammer House Of Horror films.
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