Young men on the loose

York rail to the yha hostel involved one icecream, two glasses of water, and asking a younger much sleeker version of Ricky Gervais for directions.

YHA York should have been a great stay. Half hour walk along the river to city centre, and everything on site. They forgot to mention a school party of 100 energetic 17yo’s who filled every corner of the relaxation areas, or the 40th birthday party trying to mop up an abundance of alcohol in towering piles of pizzas.

Upstairs even the skinny girls wouldn’t use one toilet because they didn’t believe in contortionism. Our dorm had no air conditioning or openable windows. The bunks rocked up and down when anyone walked across the creaking wooden floor! The hostel were cunning though; the only place the wifi worked was right near the bar…

Looking for escape, I headed out. About 20 minutes walk until a restaurant that had been recommended hove to. It sure didn’t look like a walk=in, with penguins at the ready and a deep black interior. I bravely asked anyway, and got to choose between open-air garden or the empty restaurant. Solo for me. Stunning embossed ceiling, waiter all to myself, beautifully formal settings, and Frank Sinatra rocking it out behind me. .. what more could a girl want?

The black-vested waiter eventually relaxed enough to tell me he is a business management student from the Dales, and his girlfriend is at Edinburgh studying. His eyes lit up at the mention of her, or the Dales…. a slightly homesick young man let loose in the city.

Next a stroll to an English pub. I was slightly taken aback to be met with open arms by Ricky Gervais yelling ‘Here she is!’ He and his friends covered my drinks as we sat in the garden area watching the opening of the rugby world cup. Inside, a Willie Nelson crooned through the night, struggling to keep his eyes averted from increasingly-naked girls seducting themselves around the floor.

The publican had that rare gift of being part of the crowds yet keeping everything moving smoothly. She laughed, smoked, teased and appeared totally relaxed, in her simple summer-print dress and loose bun, with a booming richly-accented voice, but the speed with which staff reacted to her merest nod showed business. The man who I assume to be her husband played the supporting role quietly yet with efficient benevolence. Between them they had total oversight of the numerous young men on the loose.

Stories poured forth faster than the drinks, with ever-decreasing merit. A lad put 40 pound on the All Black’s just because I was there, then assured me we were still friends when they lost. Another lad said he thought I was braver than his granny; given his age I’m not sure it was a compliment.

Later, back at the hostel, a young lass from Germany told of her mother’s release from East Germany when the wall came down, and how every holidays afterwards the mother would take the child off to explore Europe, free of communist shackles. I couldn’t help compare this understanding of freedom with the recent complaints about freedom from anti-vaçcers.

Lights out; I thought my encounters for the night were done…

At 4am I went to get a drink of water, only to discover a young man leaning against his dormitory-room door, unable to co-ordinate waving his access card across the reader whilst also opening the door handle…. just another young man on the loose!