Sometimes buildings are like friends, or perhaps just acquaintances that one sees everyday for decades. Others are like relatives perhaps, always there…..until one day they are not. I feel that way about the Beverley Arms, and a few days ago I heard of its demise. From the beginnings of time (my time) this old hotel has stood proudly in the centre of Beverley, my birthplace. I have vague memories of going into a cavernous room, mysteriously called “the Buttery” which smelt of baking and tea. It was genteel and posh. It was enchanting, with hints of Dick Turpin and Yorkshire mythology, a place for me and mum. I returned in my mid twenties, reconnecting with my childhood, a stranger now in the town that was once mine. I was struck by the slightly dated decor, sans serif lettering and 1960s extensions. But it was the same, the same smell of tea and coffee and prawn cocktails and Yorkshire bitter. I stayed overnight only once, a few years ago. I heard the bells on Christmas Eve from my little room, staring from the window and wishing I could live here once more. So as usual when I miss and long and reflect, I painted it. The original work is for sale at https://www.artfinder.com/product/beverley-arms-hotel/ for £60.