thirty-six pence poorer

After popping past Easingwold on the way home so that Nicky could pop for a look at an architectural salvage/craftnonsense barn she'd noticed on the A19 it made sense to pop further along it to Clifton Moor to stock up on cheap petrol for the remainder of the journey and would probably have made more sense to carry on the via-York trend and go somewhere past Goole to enter Lincolnshire via the top-left corner rather than heading back to the A1 and crossing the Trent at Dunham (where the bridge toll is now an intriguingly-precise and probably somewhat awkward 36 new pence) but slipstreaming lorries going at 60mph on motorways is more fuel-efficient than twisting and turning and I've only ever used the M180 through the former South Humberside as an escape route rather than a means of ingress. With the wingpiglet not sleeping as much during long journeys even the split-by-staying-a-few-days-near-Thirsk journey southwards to my parents' house now requires further splitting to allow a little leg-stretching so a different route can be tried the next time as it would probably allow leg-stretching somewhere more pleasant than the car park in a manky service area.

We eventually reached the destination in time for a late soup-lunch acouple of hours ahead of my pregnant sister and accompanying husband, whose presence was most of the reason for the timing of the visit. The remainder of the reason is that my parent's house (in which they've now been living for thirty years, one month, two weeks and one day) has had a FOR SALE sign outside it for a few months and there's a possibility that this visit to it might be the last time I get to go inside it.