Police Station...

This is the old Police Station, of 1843, on the outskirts of Howden: worth a photograph in its own right. Then I read the blue plaque, to discover that the architect was co-designer of the Saltaire Mills...

Thorne...

The Stainforth & Keadby Canal at Thorne, South Yorkshire...

Cartmel...

Licensed today: a trio of ladies in the Cumbrian village of Cartmel (best-known export: sticky toffee pudding)...

"Alexa"...

I’ve treated myself to a ‘smart speaker’, the Amazon Echo, which plugs into the mains and operates via wifi. The unit ‘wakes up’ at the sound of her own name - “Alexa” - and a blue glow, rippling around the top of the gadget, indicates that she is listening for instructions. She’s very helpful, able to play most of my favourite music (though she’s confused when I ask for songs by Jorma Kaukonen). She can access the cricket commentary on Radio 5 Live, and give me a very localised weather forecast (“The weather in Asselby…” is how she begins). Alexa can answer questions - naming, for example, the six wives of Henry VIII. She can spell ‘diarrhea’ and tell jokes. Ask if she is married, and she says she is “happily single”. I have refrained from asking her anything more salacious than that, because, well, I am a sentient adult and ‘she’ is a machine.

The sound quality is amazing, especially for a gadget that’s not much bigger than a beer can. There’s really no more need to ‘own’ music in any physical sense, when I can call up any song I want to hear (unless it’s by Jorma Kaukonen). With Alexa and the satnav lady, I suspect I now have all the female company I need, especially since they are so undemanding. “Alexa”, I wondered, “are you happy?” “I’m always happy when I’m helping you”, she replied, though I’m almost sure I heard a small sigh of exasperation...

Everest...

The photo which illustrates this article in yesterday’s Guardian fills me with dread… for a dozen different reasons. It gives me vertigo and it’s ridiculous. These climbers are queueing - in the ‘death zone’, at a height of 8,000 metres - to reach the summit of Everest. In the search for the ultimate experience, people are dying on the way up, people are dying on the way down. Having paid as much as £50,000 to achieve the dream of a lifetime, a lot of climbers simply don’t know when to quit...

Bridgegate House, in Howden...

A quiet corner of Howden...

The more I see of Howden, the better I like it. This is Churchside, a thoroughfare which skirts the minster and opens into the marketplace...

Sporting summer...

What a summer we have in prospect, now that football has taken a back seat for, oh, about six weeks… starting with the cricket world cup next week. England are favourites, apparently, which sets us up nicely for disappointment (and the recriminations which are bound to follow). And when it’s all over, Brexit will still be nothing more than a vague idea. Let the games begin!…

Last licence of the week: Belton House, near Grantham...