This is going to be a real challenge. Long stories short, covering two days. This being written sitting in the bar next to Ches who is halfway through a Yorkshire Rhubarb and Giger Gin with Fentiman's Ginger Beer. I'm into my third Pilsner.

We left Edinburgh after a sad goodbye for now, to Alison and journeyed to Alnmouth where her GGrandfather (my GGUncle) went to school. For some strange reason, when James, Mary and the two boys James and John Hamilton returned to the UK, Mary and John Hamilton went to Calne, James snr to Dublin to fight the court case to have his fathers will annulled, and James jnr to Alnmouth where they had just built a new boarding school or school and found him board .. perhaps with an uncle or aunt on his mother's side of the family.

It now looks like a long story.

I had planned on stopping at four towns and villages on our way to Alnmouth. Big mistake however I learned my lesson and Ches will remind me forever after. I promised to select only two places for the day with no wandering off the main route for obscure "sites".

The problem is that we would ever have seen the oldest water powered mill in Scotland and a 16th century dovecote, in this case called a "doocote". They were well out of East Linton on a very minor road (any road with three or four digits are the best roads to explore in the UK). A's you see traffic, two digits you are in heavy traffic between significant sized towns and 3 and 4 digits are lost villages and open countryside.

I'll post photographs of the mill and doocote and you tell me if they are worth a detour.

We drove through Haddington prior to East Linton and while there were some interesting buildings, it didn't give us cause to stop.

We did stop in Dunbar to photograph an old tower and town house in the middle of town however there was no sign of the castle where Mary Queen of Scots surrendered to her barons. Also need to check if there was a connection between this town and the Dunbar which was wrecked at the Gap in the 1860's. Also didn't see the harbour. This village had almost its entire male population killed in one storm. This is the newspaper report:

Monday, October 17th, 1881

THE STORM — DISASTERS TO FISHING FLEET — HARROWING SCENES

The disastrous results of the storm last week have now been properly realised and it is seen that so far as the Berwickshire fishing fleet is concerned, they are the most appalling that have fallen upon the fishing population of that quarter within living memory. Of the boats belonging to Eyemouth alone, several were wrecked within sight of the harbour and altogether 64 lives are known to have been lost, while 11 boats with 74 persons on board are still missing. There is but too much reason to fear that most of them will never be heard of.

On to Berwick-upon- Tweed. We had a very late lunch in a café at a bus stop in the middle of town. Talk about meeting the real locals .. we sang happy birthday to a lady they dragged in off the street. It was lightly showering so we made an abridged walk of the town walls that reminded us of Lucca in Italy. Big wide walls with gun emplacements. It deserved more time and attention however with a L50.00 parking fine (reduced to L25.00 if we pay in 14 days), we decided Alnmouth deserved our attention more.

We managed an hour's walk around town and a visit to James's school before being rejected by every pub and restaurant. Holiday season and without a booking weeks in advance, tables are reserved for the locals. We're around 150 years removed from being related to a local. We defied expectations at the Red Lion and snagged a table eventually.

Lucky we did, I got to experience a hamburger made with ground chorizo and pork which was great and Ches a pate that was watery and ordinary.

Up early on Thursday and I promised Ches we would only go to Alnwick Castle to photograph the castle and tour the gardens before heading on to Whitby 2 hours south.

We walked around Alnmouth as breakfast isn't served till 8.30. Discovered that the town boomed as a port between 1860 and 1900 with around a dozen ships based here. That perhaps explains why the town built a substantial school and why there are a significant number of large stone homes. Also why there is the oldest 9 hole links golf course in England established in 1869.

Like many harbours around the UK, the tides are either very large or the drafts of the boats shallow. Most times we are there, all the boats are sitting on the sand and there is little water in the estuary. This was the case when we arrived late on Wednesday however by Thursday morning there was some water and Church Hill almost resembled an island.

A full British breakfast for me and eggs and bacon for Ches and we set off for Alnwick Castle and were among the first five hundred to arrive for the 10.00 am opening. Amazingly, the temperature was heading for a top of 25c with a deep blue sky like we haven't seen since leaving Sydney and barely a cloud in sight. Day's like this are as scarce as hen's teeth.

It started with an awful experience in the carpark. Out of the car parked next to us hopped a young boy who had an intellectual disability. He was excited by my camera and wanted to chat which I was also happy to do. Several minutes later, he noticed that his mother had put a backpack down beside their car and he picked it up. Mum turned and saw him with it and immediately snatched it out of his hands and grabbed him by his shirtfront and abused him. I went into shock. What do you say to a mother? I just hoped that the boy didn't feel that his treatment was abnormal and I guess it isn't.

All the reviews of Alnwick Castle indicate that this could be the most expense rip off of castles in the UK. Something like L23.55 ($AUD39.00). Why? It's where they filmed Harry Potter and the Robin Hood TV series. Almost immediately upon arrival, the place was crawling with children in fairy costumes …. Ah!, the wicked queen was trying to kill "Beauty" with a poisoned apple and the children were charged with defeating her.

We had decided that we would only go to see the gardens and hopefully a glimpse of the castle beyond the garden walls and trees.

A guide met us inside the gardens and suggested that we get our tickets for the "Poisoned Garden" first and then wait for the first performance of the terraced water feature and then take the tour.

It reminded me of a combination of Collodi in Italy and Versailes in France in that the water feature consisted of pools on terraced down the hill side with fountains that sprayed water into the air on the hour and half hour … underwhelmed after seeing Versailles.

Next the "Poisoned Garden" tour. 100 highly toxic poisonous plants. And the Poms worry about a few spiders, snakes and sharks in Australia. I was impressed with a white trumpet flower plant (apparently they are being removed from all Australian parks). It is poisonous however the pollen can give you a "high" and in Victorian times, there were always potted plants in the drawing or tea room and the ladies would tap the flower over their cups of tea to dislodge the pollen. Then there was the castor oil plant, the source of "ricin" which was the poison used to murder Georgi Ivanov Markov a Bulgarian dissident writer. That's the famous murder by umbrella in 1978, in London. Then there was the plant that kills 8m people every year …. Tobacco. Finally Irish Ivy, however he was quick to point out that the ancients wore wreaths of Ivy and that Bacchus wore one because of the belief that to wear it protected you from getting drunk. I'm going to wear one to Friday nights at the Bowlo.

We wandered the gardens and my search for hen's teeth was shattered when Ches announced that the bird sounds were in fact kids playing with a water fountain. Unfortunately the gardens are past their summer peak. The rose gardens still fantastic and almost all were perfumed varieties however many of the others were ending their flowering so after 90 minutes, we retreated to the café for a cold drink.

Where is Harry Potter when you need him or his broom stick? A Master 4 was swinging on the chain directing water down from a roof gutter and his parents ignored him. As we left, a young girl decided to do the same … that was OK, long golden red hair and a fairy dress she was cute … he was annoying.

The guide had pointed out a path outside the gardens where you could see the castle, so that was to be our final destination. She had undersold it. It was a gate that lead to a vast green lawn facing the castle where we sat for half an hour and I photographed the life out of it and the surrounding countryside.

On the way back to the car, there was a stall selling ice cream. Kelly's of Cornwall. CLOTTED CREAM Ice Cream … amazing and New Zealand may have met its match. Vanilla and Eton Mess. Ches said she didn't want one and ended up eating half of mine.

Back to the exit where I saw an Asian dad give his intellectually impaired daughter a big hug. That brought tears to the eyes after the earlier experience.

It was now a two hour drive to Whitby and I could have done with a nap as it was now around 1.30.

We had been told there were no toll roads in England. Wrong. Tom asked if we wanted to avoid a toll road and we just thought he was having an aberration. No, there is a toll to take the tunnel under the Tyne (Newcastle). We did.

An hour and a half into the drive at the point where my right knee cap was throbbing form keeping the accelerator flat to the floor, we came to a rise in the Yorkshire Dales where there was a layby with views of Heather in every direction. Ches and I took a walk into the Heather. The colour was fantastic but what amazed us was the perfume. Whodathoughtit.

Refreshed after 30 min on the Dales, it was on to Whitby. That's right Ches, I'd forgotten, I couldn't get accommodation in Whitby. We're at a B&B 5km out of town up in the dales. Dropped our case at the B&B (Pub) and into town. The barman had advised that the town was packed with tourists and that there was a rowing regatta coming up this weekend. Lordy, what had I thought.

It was like Edinburgh all over again. Not really. As many people crowded per square metre however the artistically inclined replaced by families with a taste in tat and kitsch unrivalled except by Niagara Falls.

Like a bull in a china shop, I just drove into the thick of things along the estuary and into the narrow streets where the throngs were greatest, and all the signs said only for cars with "disc". That means local parking for residents. I had told Tom to take us to the best seafood restaurant in Whitby and it happened to be out on the headland of the northern side of the harbour.

As forecast, the only parking was for locals until 7.00pm when it was a free for all. Ches thought I was being most unfair and demanding when I asked her to go into the restaurant and ask where we might park. A waitress came out with her and directed us to parking up on the overhanging headland. Easy. That gave us an hour or so to wander the town before return to the restaurant for dinner.

What a stunning seaside town it is, even swamped by thousands of tourists. Whitby Abbey high on the southern headland is the focus of the town and I photographed from every angle and all light, including the brilliant late afternoon light when the sun was almost horizontal. Photographers appeared form everywhere to capture the amazing scene. I through the huge wale bones that form an arch beside Captain Cook's statue.

All the window tables were occupied at The Fisherman's Wife. They take no bookings and by the time we left there was a queue into the street. We started with a table on the street side however before ordering our waitress who had advised about parking moved us to a middle table. We ordered the Grilled Sea Bass with prawns, mussels, scallops in a prawn and mussel cream sauce over smashed potatoes and salsify and the seafood pie.

At this point, a 150kg guy and his petite girlfriend were given a just vacated window table. He asked if he could sit beside her. She demurred … at least I think that's what her pained expression meant. He couldn't fit between the bench seat and the table. He asked if he could have a chair to sit at the end. Waitress explained that this would block traffic. I offered them my table. He ignored me. He jammed himself into the bench and after 5 minutes when crowbars would be needed to extricate him if he ate anything, he looked across and asked if the offer of our table was still available. We swapped and now we had window seats with views out to sea.

Meal finished, a walk back up to the overhanging headland and the photo experience with the Abbey and then home to write this blog in the bar with my third beer of the night. Didn't finish but have now done so after a full day in York