Read my Winchester travelogue here

The twenty-fourth city on my list is the West Yorkshire city of Wakefield which you will find 181 miles North-East of London.

Wakefield became a city in 1888 and its etymology is simple enough. We all know what field means but the “wake” is thought to derive from the old name “Wacca,” so it literally translates to Wacca’s field.

My journey to Wakefield began with the 10.03 LNER service from London’s King Cross. It’s been a while since I’ve had a seat reservation, but I had one here. It’s also been a while since I had a baby screaming their head off near me, but what can you do?

Two hours later I arrived in Wakefield. This is the first time I’ve been back to Yorkshire since Doncaster and the furthest north I’ve been since Chester. I didn’t know what to expect, but, upon arrival, I was treated to a station forecourt without roadworks which instantly ranked the city over Stoke or Gloucester. It was also bloody windy like I was at a coastal city such as Portsmouth.

I also quickly learned that Wakefield is hilly a la Lincoln and, a la Exeter, its station lay at the bottom of the hill with the city being uphill.

With my calves ready for the inevitable burn, I headed uphill toward the cathedral which is always my first stop on my city visits. My route took me through the city’s civic quarter where I saw lots of historical blue plaques and the town hall.

By 12.15, I had found the cathedral. Good timing too, as I was feeling drops of rain. Thankfully, unlike Winchester, the cathedral was free to enter. In terms of cathedrals, it was small like Chelmsford, and not as impressive as others. But like St Albans they did their best to make it fun and interactive. There was an indoor garden, a dress-up section (I was too big for the clothes) and a model mosque made by a local kid. This was nice to see. I think interfaith conversations like these are important to have especially since Christianity and Islam come from similar origins.

Upon leaving the cathedral at half 12, I saw signs for the city museum. That would be my next stop. But I soon became sidetracked by the city’s plethora of charity shops. The first was the British Heart Foundation where I was looking for a large hooded jacket, but BHF wanted £15. Mental. In the next charity shop, Mencap, I decided to look for jeans which they were offering for £4 a pair – BHF wanted £9 for one! But neither shop had changing room which was less than helpful. The search continued.

But so did my distractions. I got sign tracked by signs for a chapel and an orangery, but I quickly learned that both of these had long since closed down.

Onto the museum, which was also closed, as I had come on a bank holiday Monday. This is when I continued my charity shopping and I found Scope – the biggest charity shop in Wakefield.

Here I bought a hooded jacket for £5.50 (almost £10 cheaper than BHF) and six DVDS – Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, A Fish called Wanda, the English patient, An American Werewolf in London, The Tre of Life and Safe Room. The latter two films are not on IMDB’s 2015 edition of the top 1000 films of all time, but I needed two more films to qualify for the 6 DVDs for £2 deal. What a bargain!

(Me in my new jacket)

Upon purchasing the DVDs, the salesman told me that An American Werewolf in London is a great film. He also said something else, but I have no idea what as his accent was as thick as molasses.

By now it was approaching 2, so it was time to find lunch. Instead I found a labour club and a conservative club across the street from each other. Whose idea was that?

I also found a bakery selling 4 sausage rolls for £1.70, but then I wandered away and couldn’t find my way back to it. And I was hungry. And selfish. And weak. Instead I went to a different bakery and bought a sausage roll and Cornish pasty for £3, which has to be the cheapest lunch I have had on these city trips.

I ate these in the cathedral – the sausage roll was great, but I wasn’t keen on the peas in the Cornish pasty.

More importantly, they were both hot and filled the gulf that was my stomach. But also I had to ask for confession as Father I had sinned…

At half 2, I left the cathedral, as they were having a service, onto my next adventure. Very pretentious, I know.

Upon my earlier walking around the city, I saw lots of signs for a waterfront and the Hepworth art gallery. While I found the waterfront and a gorgeous waterfall, like I saw in Chester, but I was disappointed to see you had to pay for the Hepworth gallery.

I also saw a terrifying model that is sure to haunt my dreams, but I also crossed a Medieval bridge which had its own chapel that was still in active use.

It was 3.15 now and I could saw the waterfall flowed into the River Tadworth, so I could walk along the river a bit. At least that was the idea. But there was no clear path, but rather thick vegetation that stopped you from getting closer to the river.

It was like this until I saw a canal that flowed into the river. The lock was called “Fall ing lock,” because you could easily fall into the lock. I also saw some graffiti definitely tagged by a cat.

Plus there were a terrace row of houses labelled 10, 11, 12 and 14. 13 was conspicuous by its absence. Whoever built these houses were afraid of the number 13.

Alas, the path soon took me away from the river and into heathland, which contained what I could only assume was an old church that had since been reclaimed by nature.

A no trespassers sign told me that I needed to turn back, so I returned to the city centre. At 4.15, I came across the Wakefield local history centre, which was closed. However, there was a sculpture outside it which was one of the six dotted around the city. I had unknowingly seen the sixth by the Hepworth gallery, so I hunted down the others.

The third one was near the cathedral and while I found the sign for the fourth one, there was no sign of the sculpture itself. But there was quite sadly a Dhosa restaurant. If I had known about this earlier, I wouldn’t have gone to the bakery. I first had Dhosa in Milton Keynes and I have been chasing that high ever since. I ate it again in Oxford, but it wasn’t as good.

En route, I also learned that the musical festival season is upon us accompanied by line-ups where I don’t know any of the performers. Am I this out of touch? No. No. It’s the children who are wrong. = Okay, I know of Manic Street Preachers and A Day to Remember, but no idea on the others. Also, isn’t Pete Tong Cockney rhyming slang?

And I stumbled upon the city’s Savers where I bought some bath salts, face masks and shower gel. By now it was 5pm, – my train home wasn’t for an hour and a half and I had ran out of things to do. It didn’t help that the city was closing up rendering it as a virtual ghost town.

As my mouth was dryer than the sands surrounding the pyramids of Giza, it was time to visit the city’s Wetherspoon’s: The Six Chimneys. I got a pint of Abbot Ale for £2. It was cold, refreshing and guaranteed to leave me thirstier than when I went in, but it was a useful pit stop.

At half 5, I left and ambled back to the station, crossing off the last two sculptures at the city museum and the station itself. At half 6, it was time for my train ride home.

I have to admit that I thought Wakefield would be like one of many decaying Northern cities that had never fully recovered from deindustrialisation and while there were certainly unglamorous sections, it really wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was very happy with my purchases from Scope. I’ve been looking for a new hooded jacket for donkey’s years. A definite highlight. And that wraps up my day in Wakefield: a day of nightmarish statues, triskaidekaphobia and the biggest charity shop in Wakefield. Worcester. You’re next.