Today I was not alone when I instructed Clint to drive to Buxton - the highest market town in England. It is around thirty two miles west of Sheffield. There is a lot to be said about Buxton and its history but I will leave most of that for another day.
Riding along in the South Korean chariot were two Michaels. That's Mick in the middle and Mike on the right. We have been quizzing together for a mere twenty five years and we had a pot of winnings to spend from our recent victories.
The other member of our team is or was Danny on the left. Just before Christmas he moved to Buxton with the new woman in his life who works in and around nearby Stockport. The Jolly Musketeers - Aramis, Athos and Porthos are standing outside Danny's new house and the picture was snapped by D'Artagnan Pudding.
We met in "The Wye Bridge" public house and spent half of our quiz bounty on meals and drinks. Afterwards, Danny took us to a rather wondrous place - The Devonshire Dome. Though I have been to Buxton many times I did not know of the dome's existence until today.
Once part of The Devonshire Royal Hospital, it was constructed in the 1850's and at that time was the biggest free-standing dome in the world. Bigger than The Pantheon in Rome or the dome of St Peter's in the same city or the dome of St Paul's Cathedral in London.
Now under the stewardship of The University of Derby, The Devonshire Dome is not open freely to the public. as the entire building is now occupied by students, academics and associated offices and businesses.
Probably the most amazing thing about the dome is the echo. I have never before experienced such resonance. When you stand in the very middle of the floor beneath the dome's highest point, your voice is supernaturally amplified. You only have to speak normally and your own voice wraps you in itself. Of course our hero D'Artagnan had to sing as well as speak and my voice seemed to fill the void. As I say - it was amazing.
Then we visited another pub before coffees were served in Danny's new abode. It was approaching six o'clock when Clint honked his horn rather impatiently and we motored back to Sheffield in darkness and drizzle. It had been a grand day out and in case you are wondering I only drank one pint of beer - Worthington's bitter with my meal at "The Wye Bridge".
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/RLTB4US
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