My July Holiday

I forgot to mention earlier, that actually the very first visit we made, before driving up to York, was to Fountains Abbey, four miles west of Ripon in North Yorkshire, and is a World Heritage site (since 1987 apparently).

It was really quite a place – a bit magical, a bit ruined, a bit like Stonehenge. It was actually reasonably sunny when we started walking the grounds... but it soon turned quite bleak (cf. ominous clouds in picture), and we didn't get to see the structure's beauty in all its glory. Still, if I wanted to, there are postcards to look at. (Updated photographs available here on Flickr – if you're registered as a friend, you'll get to see much more, obviously!)

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The Hunt Harrison Mission (as mentioned before)... originated from an innocent day out in Birmingham, when we went to watch the cricket at Edgebaston. J and I were in this pub before meeting the rest, getting a pint and generally mucking about. From across the room, J looked up and smiled at this guy – when I say guy, I actually meant giant – he was huge, more than 6" tall, had long white-grey flowing hair, was wearing a white vest and jeans, with a black leather jacket on his shoulder. He was more than twice the size of me put together, but he was a really nice bloke, with a friendly smile. J described him as a gentle giant.

This guy, whose name is Harrison, as it turns out, lives in Bristol and owns a Harley Davidson. He was left more than 1 million pounds when an old friend of his died. They didn't know each other before, but Harrison was friendly and happened to meet his old bloke, who happened to have no family to leave it to. I thought such things only happened in films, or in news stories, but it was amazing chatting to someone who, in real honesty, just got very lucky because he was friendly.

J and Harrison really hit it off. Harrison, who plays the drums in a band around Bristol, also owns a dutch barge which he uses as a house boat which he moors there – he liked J so much he told us we should look him up anytime and he'll put us up in his swanky new boat which costs a quarter of a million, and we'd go out drinking in town and the works. So they exchanged numbers. J took Harrison's. Harrison didn't take J's, because J said he would text him. And as it happens, J lost his phone that very same night.

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Cut to a week ago, we were driving to Bristol and J turned to me and said, "Should you choose to accept this mission... there will be no turning back." What mission, I asked? "The Hunt Harrison Mission", came the reply. I laughed. I'm in, I said. After all, it can't be that hard to spot a giant-like guy who rides a Harley, plays drums in a band, and owns a dutch barge on the docks of Bristol.

Cut a few hours later, we walked into a pub called the Hope and Anchor – the owner, Martin, makes a few calls and says he hasn't heard of anyone who fits the description, but directs us to a green porta-cabin where Tim who knows every boat in Bristol, will definitely tell us where to find him.

Cut a few minutes later, I'm a bit tired. I'm supposed to direct J, we can't find this cabin and we drive around in circles. Finally, someone directs us there and after locating Tim, who swears he hasn't seen anyone like that, we are told there might be a possible barge located at this specific place down by the docks.

Cut again, we drive down towards the docks. I'm getting even more tired, J's not really getting my directions. Tension rises. We can't find free parking. We decide to pay for it in the end, and walk towards the specified spot along the banks... only to find another boat, smaller, sitting in its place. We talk to its owner (who actually lives on that boat with his wife and son, slightly weird, but kinda nice if you actually think about it long enough), who told us to go down to the Marina.

It's still quite a way to walk, but too troublesome to drive to. My feet are tired, I feel skanky, and I finally say, "Mission abort. I'm tired, I want to go to a nice restaurant for a bite to eat. Fuck the mission."

J looks disappointed. How can we fail? We're so close, but no cigar. He looks crestfallen and I'm tempted to say, oh well let's go on, but I don't falter.

"If you really want to, I'll walk on with you – but to be honest, I'm really not bothered walking another few miles looking for a guy who might or might not be there", and I added in my head, who might or might not have told us the truth. Either that or maybe we got some details wrong.

And so it was, that the Hunt Harrison Mission came to an end.

Or has it, really?

I've got a feeling it'll be coming back to haunt us.