We found Lucky Days purely by chance - it was raining - we'd just got off the park and ride bus - we were in sore need of Wi Fi and cappuccinos - we'd heard a canny northern woman complaining about the cost of York's attractions - it'll cost you £10 to get into The Minster -
Broad pedestrianized precincts were overlooked by severe yet elegant buildings - earlier, I had admired the austere neo classical facade of the Assembly Rooms - sign posts tempted the visitor to seek out museums, galleries and fudge kitchens - the sleek brochure I'd picked up in the tourist centre depicted a marvellous tangle of alleyways, yards and lanes -
There, opposite a church which welcomed the over sixties, was Lucky Days - it had all I look for in an eatery - I was sure that Wilf Self would approve -
We hesitated for less than a moment - soon we were sitting inside - languid jazz was playing on the sound system - capable girls served us a wonderful salad - the decor was spare and clean - Anne scanned the humane editorials in a complimentary Guardian -
We spoke to the owner, who captivated us with his enthusiasm and quirky charm - he darted about, joshing his customers, chivvying the girls - if you rolled a six, on a huge play dice, you only had to pay a pound for your eats -
Later in the afternoon, we returned, drinking our silky cappuccino's upstairs, in an upper room - there were brave abstracts upon the walls - I looked out of the window, at the church -I thought of the elderly people I'd seen inside - I tried to stop thinking about Larkin's poem, The Old Fools - I murmured the beautiful word saudade -
Anne looked at her Samsung Galaxy - soon we would be driving to South Ferriby -
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