A FEW YEARS ago P took me to visit an old school chum of his, Andrew, in the picturesque town of Ilkley in West Yorkshire. Located in the Wharfe Valley, at the southern end of the Yorkshire Dales, the town was as charming as they come, with its quaint little restaurants (think I ordered Sole au Gratin) and perfect little English pubs where one of the old men from the village even asked my fancy self if I were "on the television".
Rye
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