York

Surrounded by a complex of old disused shipping containers transformed into hipster-y street food outlets, I type left-handed with a pair of chopsticks poised in a suitable feeding position in my right. My innards are loaded up with Pad Thai, pear cider and pancakes, and the warm, clear day is being threatened by an abundance of grey clouds. Oh, also it’s Monday (as in two days ago) and I’m in city far enough away from home to require new lodgings but still close enough I don’t have to leave the country.

Just over the tops of the buildings I’m facing, I can see tiny distant tourists circling the top of the ancient castle tower ruins I’d just circled myself no more than a couple of hours ago. My clothes are certifiably stuck to my person thanks to the sweat-inducing combination of natural heat and the physical act of walking around.

In this outdoor heat, the tablet is heating up tremendously in my hand and I feel it’s imperative I put it away for a short while, lest it explode.

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The short while has turned into a long while, as evidenced by the aching in the soles of my feet and the ocean of perspiration upon my brow. Thankfully this is the time of year that ice cream and gelato places make a killing, so that helped with the heat at least. And if it didn’t, it tasted of raspberry so no complaints here really.

Having visited York a few times before, I’ve never really explored the area on my own until now (i.e. two days ago). Some take-aways: museum gardens are nice, crumbly church ruins are large, historical sites are never more than fifteen minutes’ walk away, chocolate was made here, chocolate is eaten here, old shipping containers make for a great food/booze court, there are many tiny alleyways that bring you to streets you were just on ten minutes ago, and many shops have excessive air conditioning to make for a cool haven even when you have no intention of buying anything.

All in all, nice day off. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to enjoy the rest of the week, which (by the time you’ll see this) is now half over.

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90s grunge is still a thing, right? If not, this makes it feel as though it never really left. There’s a raw grittiness to this thumping drum beat and ticking guitar line that almost seems timeless, while the lyrical imagery straddles the border between ‘beautifully poetic’ and ‘downright insane’. Like, how actually could one burn down the sun?

After clinging onto a long-standing mental note that I should discover all their older stuff properly, I feel like this is the thing to give me a kick up the arse and do it (instead of constantly telling myself that I’ll “get round to it one day”). That way, I might even get to disassociate the name Smashing Pumpkins with the mere thought of Homer Simpson, smiling politely.

Smashing Pumpkins – Solara