Absolutely fascinated to read an update on Lincoln where I did a season, in repertory, at the theatre in Clasketgate - 1962!!!    Real Brief Encounter territory as you could borrow a book from Boots Library for 2d (old currency) a throw.     I lived at Westgate Hill House (up Steep Hill and turn left) with a panaromic view over Lincoln.   The large house was divided into wings and I would not have been surprised to meet Mrs Danvers in the dark corridors.   A young, enthusiastic Cambridge graduate, Michael Billington, joined us as PR representative - he's since done rather well as theatre critic for The Guardian - and I spent far too much time with Mike, after the witching hour, developing plans for the newly formed National Theatre; before I returned to my room to study for next morning's rehearsal.  Warm memories, too,  of Brigit Forsyth (before the Likely Lads), Anna Carteret, Paul Chapman (As Time Goes By) and  John Savident (Corrie) in the company.

Yes, I see the comparison with York (where I now live after several decades in London) and perhaps it is time for me to book one of the regular coach trips to Lincoln for Christmas shopping - or is it really a case of never go back?

Yes, but can you get  80 of them in your pocket?

Just been catching up on things on this thread. Sorry to hear about your situation. Good luck to you snd your partner, yeah, Rubes?

Thankfully, Ive never had any trouble with my ipod, touch wood!!

Thanks BBM.  I'll be off soon - eye test followed by a lovely drive up the A1 to Leeds via hospital...  

My iTunes decided to randomly delete and recreate the library the other day for no good reason.  That took a while to sync as well.

What's the Eastgate Hotel called now then? 

Mine is going to have to go back - it downloads about 1000 pieces, then stops and says an unknown error has occurred.  Then, when it resumes it misses out the next half a dozen playlists before restarting to work properly.  If i tick the ones it missed and tell it to syncronise, it wipes what is already on there and says sync complete despite not having added anything to it.  *&^>;+1 thing!!!!!

No need really when there's this, this, this, and this...

Thanks, Rubes.   Yes, 'Manderley' as I called it was at the site you identified.    A long wall in the approach and the full splendour of the house when you opened the wall door.   The owner, a petite Mrs Beaton used to throw regular bridge party evenings which could comfortably accommodate 50 people without being overcrowded.   She was also libertarian in an autocratic age!    The autocrat was the theatre manager, Kay...(she may still be around) - an unusual role for a woman at the time - whom we called Lady Clasketgate; an early taste of Mrs Thatcher.    Quite formidable but capable of maternal warmth at troubled times.   She was responsible for two companies, A & B, as we'd play at Lincoln, followed by a week at a very posh private theatre on an estate at Loughborough, or down-to-earth at the Civic Theatre, Rotherham  - we'd rehearse the next play at Lincoln in the morning/early afternoon, then join the hired coach for Loughborough or Rotherham.    

Yes, yes.   I'd forgotten the Victorian pub you mentioned.    You've made me think.   How the hell did we manage to pay for digs, including London accommodation, smoke (a habit I didn't kick until the early 70s), lunch at good restaurants and go to the pub - all for around £12 a week?   Pay day was on a Thursday - in cash, of course - and Kay...insisted on calling this ritual 'Treasury'!    I would have smartly cleared the room if anyone had dared to call her company 'luvvies' in her presence.

And yes, Ron, I can visualise you traipsing up and down Steep Hill as a publicity stunt; the true espirit de corps; no gratuities either, I bet.   Young and foolish but contented during regular 6 day/16 hours a day routine - the pub after the performance and back to the digs for more study.

I'd also forgotten about medical facilities at Lincoln.    Somehow, I had a minor injury rehearsing Rattigan's Ross and, perhaps it was the actors as vagrants stigma, but I was picked-up by an ambulance from nearby RAF Nocton Hall hospital where I was well treated and back in time for the evening performance.       Ah, well,   "We'll always have Clasketgate."