i love yorkshire people and yorkshire accent AND YORKSHIRE PUDDING my daughter is a yorkshire lassy

 York Minster la catedral de York

 

I

 

There are more saints in Yorkshire than in heaven they used to say and I spent two years under the shadow of York Minster with its spire, its bells, the Yorkshire pudding. That land the biggest county of England remains engraved into my soul reverberating happiness of the good old days.

 It comes to me as the froth of Newcastle black ale. On saint Peter´s Day 1970 we baptized my daughter Helen. I wanted to call her Ethelburga named her under the protection of a queen married to the local king Edwin. In York wrote and studied the Bible the monk Alcuin.

But, my sweet wife Suzanne said no.

In a way, my life full of books trying to apprehend knowledge followed the bridle path of this venerable father of the universal Catholic Church followed his teachings.

Writing and reading sitting long hours imitating the scribes of Whitby was my unique purpose.

I hear the roar of the waves of the Northern seas always in turmoil and changing. Defeated by my eagerness for knowledge I developed a painful back after sitting by the stool thousand of days and many an hour.

Thus, I walk a bit swooping, developing a hunch, my eyes fixed in the floor and my bent to the earth yearning for wisdom and beauty, tilting under the burden of speculation of the unattainable learning.

It is not gratifying to be an intellectual.

I am rowing always against the tide, besides and that attitude is not advisable nowdays. I am the odd man out.

 I was born in Spain but I don’t feel myself Spanish.

In me, there is the seed of the wandering Jew, a tribute to my ancestors, people with noses big and strong hips. They were conversos. Good in Arts and languages, Talmud and Bible abiding the Law and a bit free minders, but a disaster in social relations they were.

 Like an eagle, my memories fly to that city which was the cradle of Christianity of the British Isles. At this hour of looking back at the story of my life, I conjugate memories and feel full of repentance. I would like to ask forgiveness to people I hurt with my insolent behaviour but they are dead most of them while I go around the street of York.

My ex grand aunt Eileen had a vision and I saw her tampering with the cross of Santa Elena the daughter of Constantine emperor.

She unearthed the tomb of hour Saviour and I said in Latin:

— O cross sweet Cross save me Crux of Christ salvum me fac.

Through Via Dolorossa I saw climbing to the Calvary Mountain the flock of my sins. Aunty Eileen was one of the holy Women assisting Maria Magdalena and Maria of Cleofes to the crucifixion, as is represented in one isles of the Minster.

The cathedral was consecrated year 635 built over the ruins of a roman temple consecrated to Jupiter in a site called Cataractonium. There resided the “castra” camp of the Legio VII fighting the picti at the other side of Adrian Wall.

Why York was called Eboracum? I don’t know, but studying the history of Roman Empire I found many locations consecrated by noncupatio or benediction to the mineral god of ivory valued as much of gold for its application in medicine, they say that this mineral increases the virile potence: Evora, Hervas, Eborarium. Ivory Coast.

The climate change transformed completely the surface of earth.

I assume that the British Isles had a milder weather then and perhaps was possible that elephants could breed there and they produced in those days the tusk tooth’s elephantine, walrus’s hippopotamus, rhinoceros’s.

At York Minster was crowned William the Conqueror and Edward the Confessor. One spandrel of the arch keeps the face of this glorious monarch. In the altar was also married Edward with Leonor de Castilla.

 

It will continue