Black Station Inn

black station inn
    black station
  • Zamora (formerly, Black's, Blacks, Black's Station, Blacks Station, and Prairie) is an unincorporated community in rural Yolo County, California, U.S., on Interstate 5 due west of Knights Landing. Its ZIP code is 95698 and its area code 530. It is in the northern part of the county.
  • An establishment providing accommodations, food, and drink, esp. for travelers
  • Indium nitride is a small bandgap semiconductor material which has potential application in solar cells and high speed electronics.
  • A restaurant or bar, typically one in the country, in some cases providing accommodations
  • Inns are generally establishments or buildings where travelers can seek lodging and, usually, food and drink. They are typically located in the country or along a highway.
  • hostel: a hotel providing overnight lodging for travelers

The Station Inn, Ribblehead
The Station Inn, Ribblehead
A wonderful place run with enthusiasm by the guy in the shot. A fantastic selection of beer and great meals. I had a ploughman's, which consisted of a roll, a pot of white pickled onions, a pot of branston, and four thick slices of wonderful local creamy cheese. Really, really good. Blog excerpt: Monday dawned bright-ish, and so our plan was after another hearty farm breakfast to head to Hexham to catch the train to Carlisle and then onto Settle in Yorkshire, which just happens to go along the most picturesque and stunning line in Britain. OK, England. We arrived at the station with half an hour to spare, and the guy in the ticket office went above and beyond the call of duty in trying to find us the cheapest fare possible for the trip, and would not take no for an answer. The line to Carlisle was spectacular in itself, running beside the River Tyne right up into the Pennines to it's source; I claim to have spotted Hadrian's Wall at times, and all the time light played on the heather covered hilltops. Sadly in modern times, rail companies seemed to have lost the idea of getting trains to connect, and so we had over an hour to wait before heading sout, and so we had a slow cup of coffee and I sat and watched the express trains and freight roaring through the station. I could wax on and on about the trip along the line; 17 major viaducts and over 10 tunnels speak of the hard work in getting the line built. And it's survival is worth investigating as well. We passed through small villages, stopping at tiny stations, some stations having no houses to serve at all. And then just at the end of the line, we head over the Ribblehead Viaduct, 104 feet high, over a dozen arches, with views for miles on both sides. Once at Settle we wait for the next train north, and get out at Ribblehead Station for a walk and for me to take pictures. We have lunch at the Station Hotel. Me a ploughman's made of a roll, a pot of pickled onions and branston and four huge wedges of very local full fat cheeses; and home made pate with loads of toast for Jools. It was wonderful, washed down wit a local ale called Black Mari'a. Time to walk to the viaduct to snap away and look up at passing trains high above before it was time to head back to the dessolate station for one of the last trains north; it was a two hour wait for the next one. Another wait at Carlisle of an hour and then back over the Pennines to hexham and in the car to the coaching inn just down the road from the farm for dinner; steak and ale pie for me and fresh minted lamb for Jools. And back to the hotel and our view over the fells and the golden light of the setting sun. Bliss.
French Ordinary Court EC3 - The City Of London
French Ordinary Court  EC3 - The City Of London
It was a lovely spring day in the City today, so I decided to follow a 2 1/2 hour walk as set out in a book I own called 'secret London'. The walk took me down lots of unusual alleys and roads. This particular Alley though seemed right out of Jack The Ripper's Victorian London. Not a night time walk. In a tunnel-like passage, French Ordinary Court burrows its way beneath the platforms of Fenchurch Street Station. Along the way the glimmer of illumination barely exceeds the light emitted from a single candle. Indeed it is sufficiently dim to cause the eyelids to hesitantly blink as we emerge into the glaring daylight of St Katherine's Row on the north side of the station. Over the centuries, the only changes to have taken place in this old tunnel, for that is what it really is, have been in the shape of its inhabitants - there are none, but its walls are still whitewashed, as they always have been. A few years ago, ladies might have been tempted to linger here a while to inhale the extravagant aromas leaking from the warehouses of sweet-smelling oil and spice importers. Still further back, perhaps in the 17th century, we would have savoured a very different, but nonetheless tempting, aroma along this cobbled way. Drifting from the kitchen of an inn came the palate-tickling savoury smells cooked up by a French chef who excelled in the culinary art of preparing his native dishes. But what of the 'ordinary'? Well, it is pretty certain that there was nothing ordinary concerning the quality of the food but ordinarily everything on the menu would have been at the same price. Or to put it in language of our own time, a table d'hote menu. Dr Johnson provides us with the relevant definition of ordinary: A place of eating, established at a certain price. 'Ordinaries' were fairly common in the City of London during the 17th and 18th centuries, as quoted in Journey throughout England of 1714, 'not so common here as abroad, yet the French have set up two or three good ones for the convenience of foreigners, where one is tolerably well served.'

black station inn
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