25 years ago the PSP went out one evening to Elvington and Sutton on Derwent on a wonderful collection of ancient and modern cycles, leaving the pub late into a July evening, and as we pedalled along, a stately and eccentric peloton, a barn owl flew silently above us in the not-quite-wholly-dark. For reasons which are no longer clear to me, we decided to divert from the bridleway at Gipsey Corner and take our bicycles, and tricycles, and tandem, along the footpath, through the wood, over stiles,along the narrow edge of a wheatfield beside the hedge. It was, therefore, rather late, probably about 1am when we paused at the end of Long Lane, to admire the summer lightning glittering on the hills which ring the plain of York. A warm, still night — no rain — and no lightning on the plain. So back, unsteadily into the city, stopped only by a passing police car who was concerned by the lack of lights on the Dursley-Pedersen.
And the next morning, we awoke to the news that York Minster’s South Transept had been gutted by fire in the night, though whether caused by a random lightning strike, or divine wrath directed at the Bishop of Durham, no one has yet discovered.
So, 25 years on to the night, a few of us pedalled out to the end of Long Lane to reminisce, and then repaired to the Bay Horse in Marygate to reminisce some more with other less stalwart souls. There was the odd rumble of thunder, and the occasional drop of rain, but we, and the Minster, were spared conflagration.
