Brian Holden: A love of ye olde worlde stuff

Oh how the time flies when you're on holiday. We've been in York for a week now, and have an apartment within a pigeon's flutter of the famous York Minster and the city centre, The Shambles, overhung by teetering medieval houses.

My, we're in a great little spot. Having stayed in a fair few self-catering apartments and hotels over the years, the And Another Thing team is convinced that your holiday nest should be close to where the main attractions are. You'll pay a little more but you save hugely on transport costs and down time getting to them.

Better that than renting a converted barn in the country - of which there are hundreds - and having to jump in the car every time you want to go somewhere. However, a remote quiet country setting with its associated smells does have a certain appeal for many holidaymakers.

Mention Yorkshire and you think of dales and moors, headlands, cliffs, city walls, steel mills, coal mines and woollen mills - and of course veterinarian/writer James Herriot. It's all here, including the churches and monasteries begging to be explored. We have a love of ye olde stuffe - in particular ageing stone buildings.

We never tire of trekking up worn steps and pulling open a creaking 500-year-old church oak door and exploring the darkly lit interior. We've recently checked out the famous fishing ports of Staithes, Whitby and Robin Hood's Bay about an hour's drive from York.

They say that if you want the world's best fish and chips, Whitby is the place to get them and, for the prettiest little alleyways and lived-in cottages, Robin Hood's Bay is the place for those.

There are two frustrating things about Britain for of which the locals cannot offer a decent explanation. Why do they still use those 1950s stainless steel teapots in their tearooms - the ones where the shape of the spout causes the tea to pour everywhere except in your cup. And why do they still have 1, 2 and 5p copper coins that are next to worthless. France is the same.

Kiwis saw sense years ago and ditched the pesky little things. "Save the pennies and the pounds look after themselves" I've been told. That's the most ridiculous piece of reverse logic I've ever heard.

Holidays are wonderful, but not always beer and skittles - the most simple tasks can often be so difficult, like returning our little Peugeot to the depot in France on the periphery of the airport. We were assured that the depot address was programmed into the GPS and that as long as we followed the little blue arrow on the screen, we'd get there. Well we didn't. Instead we were directed right to the heart of Charles de Gaulle terminal 1 at the airport.

Nothing that a hugely expensive phone call to the depot couldn't fix, and with the new co-ordinates now entered into the GPS, it was "simply" a problem of getting out of the airport. But with the barrier firmly down in front of our car and the machine showing no coin slot whatsoever, we were trapped. Fortunately an attendant skipped promptly over to us and let us through.

"It's a crazy system" he said, "and France is a crazy place".

He's certainly not wrong there, but that being said - give us another two years and we'll be back.