On underplaying things

‘Where’s ‘wibbly-wobbly gate’? Dean asks, ‘the one on the postcards’.

‘You mean Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate’ I reply. ‘I’ll take you there’.

So on Sunday, as we’re in town I decide to include it in the tour, warning ‘don’t get your hopes up’. I smile to myself, as I sort of know what’s coming.

We walk down Colliergate, and I pause at the end. ‘Are you ready?’ and I step forward, ‘there’.

Dean looks around ‘what?’

‘Here we are’. I point to some junction markings a few yards ahead. ‘From here, to that junction. That’s Whip-Ma-Whop-Ma-Gate’. I also point to the frankly tatty road sign proclaiming the name. It consists of a concrete building to the left, and a shop and church hall to the right.

His face is a picture. I can almost see the rant forming. ‘They should have called it don’t-bother-Gate’. I can't help but laugh.

‘Are you sure you don’t want a photo with the street sign?’