135. York - UK - House and Pet Sitting - Episode 46

 And here he is, the Jinks factor, who liked to start his day between 4.15 and 5.30 AM. After two weeks he started to settle down a bit and not be quite so reactive.  The owner told us that he'll bite if he doesn't want to do something. That includes getting out from under my feet in the kitchen when I'm flying around trying to cook. And also when someone knocks at the door and you need him to move in order to answer the door and not have him escape and die on the busy road.  

Huby is a cute little village with some exquisite homes and the best run and stocked community shop anywhere. It has a pub that we tried to go to, but was booked out.  And that's it!  A shop and a pub.

 

England is full of these little libraries. They're just exchange sites, really.  A great idea, though. Take a book. Leave one. Or not. 

York is an historic viking town. Not that we did any touristy things. The whole tourist strip, of course, is overpriced and corny, but some of it is really well done. So if you want £10 fudge or a sorting hat for £40, that's your destination. 

Some beautiful old buildings.

This shop was as it seems. Run by gays for gays (and anyone else, presumably). We didn't go in, had to get back to the four-legged terror. 

Jinks' owner is American, but had lived in the UK for many years, fitting the bill of an aging spinster in a tiny house in country England. That is to say, a clutter bug hoarding collector of many entirely useless things.  This is fine when it's just you, but having others come into your home for three weeks (ish)...  

She was, unfortunately, self-entitled, opportunistic and completely oblivious to the fact that there was nowhere for us to put our clothes or personal effects or any spare 6 square inches for a coffee cup. Having driven for hours to get there, with no phone reception to actually pinpoint the house, she then wanted a lift to York - another hour and a half round trip.

Because our entire lives are in the back of our car, we have to empty it in order to get anyone else (and all their travel gear) in. And, of course, in the house, there's nowhere to put anything. 

Needless to say, we worked it out.  Paul drove her to the station and returned and in the meantime, I cleared space, cleaned, bought wine. Lots. And so we settled in to probably the worst pet sitting job we've had. Jinks bit Paul twice and we couldn't wait to get out of there. 

I transformed her garden, of my own volition, without thanks or acknowledgement.  Hours and hours of nasty work.  It was full of large, healthy blackberry, holly and nettle. And when we left, we ran! 🤣🤣

While she gave us a five star review, she managed to make sure everyone knew that being bitten was our fault 🤣

Bye Huby. Bye Jinks. (Breathes sigh of relief.)