June 30 (and into July 1st)
Bradford England was once the center of the wool trade for England, even rivaling London for importance. I have also learned that all England’s larger cities say this at least once in their tourist information. But because of its location to water, people, and most importantly, the sheep, I do think Bradford had an edge on this category, at least for a while.

But first, getting the car. Dave is not standing on the wrong side of the car–it’s the English driving thing–steering wheel on the right side of the car.

From here we went down to the parking garage’s next level and drove around there, practiced pulling into a space, then out of a space, then down to the next level where there were more cars, etc until we (he) felt brave enough to try a real road. Kind of like Driver’s Training all over again.

The motorways are really nice. We had no problems getting to our destination until we got off of them, then Good Luck. Street signs seem to be absent nearly everywhere. If you do see one, it’s on the street that intersects yours. You’re supposed to know what street you’re on–difficult.

Bradford’s buildings are solid-looking brick buildings, built in the last century. This is City Hall.

Love the names of the streets here.

Boys in Bradford.
This place is one of those dying cities, the prime of the wool trade long past and no new infusion of cash or a viable industry.

The old Wool Center building–rather gothic-y at the top. Now it’s a bank.

Dave’s smiling because at long last–we have clean clothes!
We ran into a tour guide operator in Bergamo Italy and I asked him for tips on travel. “Febreeze,” he said. I laughed, but after 8 days of traveling, if we hadn’t found a laundromat, I would have bought some to freshen up our clothing.