We had one of those notorious “staycations”. Camping in Yorkshire. The campsite was in Glaisdale, this being a tiny village in the nook of the North Yorkshire moors. I say campsite. Really it was just a small patchwork of fields huddled around a few stone built farm buildings.
It is ruled by well meaning octogenarian martinet. She had festooned the whole site with impromptu signage warning that you transgress at your peril. It was everywhere. Everything had a sign, with a punishment to match.
After escaping I painted a picture of nearby Robin Hoods Bay.Lovely place too.