Ducks and Carps and a trip to the Market

Actually I'm 1:16 English. Because my great great grandmother came from England. Then I married a Yorkshire lad. So that makes my kids more than 50% english.
Anyway...

When we travel to England to visit my parents-in-law we go to the ducks to feed them. We're not alone there on the little bridge. Parents and kids bring yesterdays bread in plastic bags. The ducks swim around in the dirty water and all the pieces of white bread floating in it. The carps are the biggest I've ever seen. They feed on the ducks bread and move lazily just under the surface. They look like they could have eaten one of the ducks. But they never do. All thanks to their diet of white bread.

One of our favourite places is the Market. Two levels of indoor market and one outside. You can get absolutely everything there, from pet rabbits, shoes, sausages and books. But hold on to your handbag. Eyes might be watching it.

This is also one of the highlights. An enormous chip butty from the Chippy in the Village. The owner worked in Norway once, in the town next to ours. That is so weird!

Anyway, after a pint or two, on our way home we go to the Chippy. My husband buys a massive fried fish covered in yellow batter. Plenty of thick chip-chunks and somtimes mushy peas. He soaks it all in vinegar, and eats it with great pleasure. I get my chip butty, chunky chips in a big soft bread-cake. I'm getting braver with the vinegar, but that means a few little drops. I warm my hands on the chip butty when we walk home, in the dark and slightly smoke-smelling Yorkshire night.