m’,A strange affliction can be seen throughout the good folks of Skipton both visitors and residents alike ,usually around lunch time with the victim rendered welded rigidly to the spot , head stretched out forward ,arse pushed back duck fashion  and concentration very much fixed on the job in hand .

Yes folks its the ‘ Stanforths Stoop’ , the much loved , never mastered practice of eating a warm ‘ celebrated ‘pork pie from the Craven Town’s esteemed butchers without losing half ton of greasy melted pie jelly down your front , an art form in itself needing much determination to conquer and obviously one that needed my full attention on our latest wanderings .

Of course most honing their technique are not hampered by a small furry one gazing intently at said meat product ready to pounce if all does not go well … For a dog with attention span of a gnat I had to admit, begrudgingly FW was doing pretty well on the concentration front and this perhaps a small crumb of comfort  for those poor luckless dog trainers who had been unfortunate enough to find Bruce as their star’ pupil at numerous long abandoned training classes . ‘Have you tried him with food ? ‘ Their demented cries as he proceeded to  be totally non compliant . Perhaps we all got it wrong ,sod all those sausages and chicken chunks , one whiff of a Skipton ‘Growler’ and we’d have have a Crufts Obedience Champion on our hands … Maybe that was how Barbara Woodhouse managed . Nowt to do with a forceful ‘sit’ just an ample supply of pork n pastry  secreted under that oh so sensible woolly jumper n tweed skirt combo ?

Asa a pie sort of girl much as it pains me to say it but our visit to Stanforths was not the sole season for our trip to Skipton , voted the top place in Britain to live for the 15000 lucky souls who reside there  . Just inside the North Yorks Border its other claims to fame are its Building Society , its traditional street market up the  town centres cobbled setts and the 12th Century Castle that sits proudly on a small hill keeping a steady watch over the bustling High Street ,

  The 

Our final destination was a perennial favourite the very wonderful ‘Beer Engine ‘ found just on a. Cobbled side street just off the Canal Basin, blink and you’ll miss it  – a small yet perfectly formed Micropub , indeed in a town quickly become micro heaven the Engine is the original , the daddy of them all .

A amiable mixture of locals and visitors ,unequivocally dog friendly and an eclectic beer selection served by folk who know their ales . It’s tiny so I’d advise maybe staying away during the busiest times of the year but a steady winter weekend or weekday summer afternoon you’ll normally be fine visiting a ave le Chien . Oh and prepare to get comfy , it’s without doubt the sort of place where a swift pit stop can turn into a full session if you aren’t careful – not often I say this  but this is one establishment where Bruces renowned  two pint boredom threshold becomes a Godsend 🙂

Four or five small tables , a well stocked reading library and a long bar perfect for leaning and nattering make up this legend . Live music is promised on a weekend