We cycled over the Humber bridge (I know that it wasn't built at the time, but Granddad Jack would have taken the ferry route over the Humber, at the same location - the best we could do!). Managed to get out of Hull and through East Yorkshire (our tiredness was clear from the amount of wrong turns that we took). Arrival at Pocklington was triumphant and very emotional - we passed an old road sweeper and many hedges as we came in to Pocklington, which I thought was most poignant (it was Jack's profession for much of his adult life).
Back home now - and ready to sleep... I'll give some philosophical thoughts on it all tomorrow, but my brain is dead now...