Whether you were a billionaire or broke, you were treated the same - this is what I made of my first trip to York

Admitting you had never been to York is a bit like telling Joseph O'Brien you have never seen a single episode of Game Of Thrones. That fatal error was made while previewing the Listed Carlingford Stakes at Dundalk a few years ago. After the trainer provided a quote for his representative, I stupidly asked where the name Jaqen H'Ghar actually came from. Rookie mistake. 

Or, remember telling your nan you missed mass on a Sunday morning? The shame. Or, saying Sea The Stars might have beaten Frankel. Or, suggesting The Shawshank Redemption was overrated. That is the sort of stigma attached to being a Knavesmire virgin, so we caught the 6.45am flight out of Dublin to Leeds Bradford on Wednesday morning to finally put an end to the embarrassment. 

Hotels seriously take the piss these days, do they not? You need to remortgage your house to stay a night anywhere and then, after forking out a fortune, you find out you cannot check-in before 4pm and have to be gone by 11am the next day. You get better value out of the Guinness at Cheltenham.