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ear Yorkshire, I have a confession to make.
I’ve been seeing Wales behind your back.
It’s not you, it’s me. Well, alright, it’s a bit you. Don't look at me like that; I’m not leaving. I couldn't afford to, even if I wanted to. But I’ll be visiting my mistress again soon, and I think it’s time we were honest with each other.
I still love you. You’re in my blood, you’re in my voice, and you’re the soil I’ll likely end up in. But Wales? Wales has something you don't. While you’ve got the grit and the "broader" industrial heart, Wales has that ancient, Celtic call that pulls at the other half of my soul.
As a Norse Pagan with a fair few Celtic leanings, I find there’s no battle for space in my head between the two. Odin feels right at home amongst our dales and urban sprawls but there’s a different kind of magic in the Welsh hills that doesn't need to compete. It’s just... different.
If Yorkshire is my home—the place where I fettle my bike, grab my snap, and defend the mighty Yorkshire Pudding —then Wales is my escape. It’s where the mountains don’t care about my modern problems and the air feels a millennium older.
I’d leave you if I could afford the move, Yorkshire. I’d be over the border in a heartbeat, settling into a place by the sea with a name as long as the history. But even then, I’d definitely be seeing you on the side. I’d be sneaking back across the Pennines for a bit of proper grit and a "reyt" brew, because once you’ve had the Viking hammered into you, you can’t ever truly walk away.
So, I’m heading West very soon. This Urban Viking is going on a raid, but I'm not looking for gold or silver—I'm hoping to find a bit of Celtic peace before the modern world catches up again.
Yours, but only until I hit the M56,
The Captain
I'll be sending you all a post card, pop back mid-week to catch it.
The spirit of the Urban Viking—and the occasional absurdity of navigating the modern world—lives on in my webcomic, Northman. Join him on a Welsh adventure. 
You can read the latest chapter here:
Hope you have a fab time in Welsh Wales. Remember, Welsh sheep never say "No!" so don't forget your wellies. As for "defend the mighty Yorkshire Pudding" - this is a battlecry that has my full approval.
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