The Ouse.

I give you: The River Ouse!

I love this river, I really do.

When I was about about nine, my family visited York from the South of England. I don't remember much of it. There was a wall. There was the Jorvik Centre. There was the queue for the Jorvik Centre, and there was the River Ouse.

I remember that in my head York was associated with a northern Kingdom of mountains and wildness, and that, in my head at least, The Ouse carried a bit of those mountains with it.

When I walk over it every day, it reminds me of mountains and this other world that doesn't really exist.