Özil, the North and the Grim Reaper.

Quite a lot has happened in the last week. It all began on Monday with a trip to Leeds to spend a few days with my sister Ruth. We travelled down on Transfer Deadline Day - a day normally associated with Arsenal fans up and down the country attaching nooses to wooden beams and preparing for the worst. The Samaritans clearly got in touch with Arsene Wenger...



In an Özil-related post-orgasmic daze I accompanied Ruth into Leeds to visit the Royal Armouries.



Full to the brim with weapons and many other historical titbits, the Armouries kept us happily entranced for a few hours.



That evening we visited an Italian restaurant where my dinner and I had a stand-off to see who would eat who. I won in the end.



The following day we met up with some old friends and went on a trip to Bolton Abbey.



Feeling rather conquered by our friends' offspring we mustered the energy to visit the beautiful city of York. To a history nerd like me, it was manna from heaven.

It had a medieval house...



Someone to help you if you caught the Plague...



An excellent reconstruction of Viking York or 'Norvic'...



And my favourite street in the U.K...



The last day of a cracking week up North included Ruth conjuring up a sensational cooked breakfast, a Krispy Kreme donut and the obligatory trip to the home of Northern football...