hmcreativelady
Fellow passenger getting off the train
The rushcart parade
Littleborough brass band
Dancers
Captivated by the Morris dancers
Wonderful sky at Hollingworth Lake, one of my mom’s favourite day trip destinations
Hope the lamb can’t read the signs
‘A swan and cygnet, nothing more. Background of silver, reedy shore.’ Who wrote that?
Journal writing in the Olive and Pickle, Hollingworth Lake.
Gary, as usual, ordered perfect weather for our 11.2 mile hike.Within 10 minutes of getting home there was torrential rain! This is where we got off the bus to begin the hike, Wainstalls.
Not content with the Warley museum in a phone box that Sarah and I came across Gary knew of a library phone box. This differs from the American pop up libraries in people’s gardens in my area in that this is a community effort.
It doesn’t look it but, my, that road was steep.
Action!
Making feathered friends
Anyone for a turkey sandwich?
Flowers in Luddenden
I met up with my high school friend Judith for lunch in York. I was able to get a train from Hebden Bridge right to York. It took an hour and a half and I watched the landscape change from deep narrow valleys to the open rolling wheat fields of the Vale of York. The building materials also changed from soot blackened stone to gentile brick.
Isn’t this fascinating? A modern reredos (1968) in an ancient church. St Martin’s Coney Street.
A tea shop that has an open window so that passers by can sample their teas.
‘The Shambles’
Bakery
Flower girls!
Sticky toffee pudding and a pint. This was the first glass of cold beer I’d been served in England on this trip.
Stone mason working on the restoration of York Minster
His creation
This guy sat on this bike for at least the 5 hours that I walked past him – raising money for the Grenfell Tower fire victims.
After Judith left I stayed for a while and attended evensong in the Minster.
The first thing I saw this morning out of my bedroom window was this traffic jam . . . .
[wpvideo rDlqIC5Z]
Some of my ancestors had been married at the C of E church in Hebden Bridge. I’s never been in the church so I thought it would be interesting to attend a Sunday morning service. The vicar welcomed 2 visitors from ‘over the Atlantic’ so I raised my hand and added myself to his list!
This lady knew Affetside! In fact she told me that her grandmother had lived there. There was also a man who had been stationed in the Air Force base on Alameda, CA
Yes, playing the organ again
It took me just under two hours to walk to Todmorden, the small market town that market the boundary (much disputed) between Lancashire and Yorkshire. I wore my red rose earrings and and white rose necklace to mark the occasion! I walked along the canal towpath immediately outside my mill to the center of Todmorden – 5.8 miles – with not one yard of road. By the time I arrived the town was bustling, for today was not only market day but second hand market day at that. Much in need of a bathroom I found I didn’t have a 20p coin for the toilet. I asked a market vendor for change for my 50p coin. ‘Ah,’ he said knowingly, ‘You must need to go t’at toilet!. It’s 20p for a pee!’ Feeling much more comfortable I returned to the coffee shop that I’d gone to with Sarah where I listened to barista Lisa talk about her daughter’s upcoming wedding. Obviously everyone sitting at the bar were regulars. Much refreshed I had a great time wandering around the outdoor stalls. I even bought two dresses for 3 pounds each. The vintage clothing and vintage jewelry just wanted me to grab and Anna and bring her here immediately!
The White Hart, a Wetherby’s, provided lunch, just as with Sarah, and I placed myself in front of the TV to watch tennis from Wimbledon, as dug into my chicken strips. One of the features of the Wetherby’s chain is to have photos of the area on the walls. I found a large photo of Todmorden Old Hall so I called in at the excellent information bureau to ask its location. The elderly lady gave me a potted history of the place which was recently turned into a private home after serving as Todmorden’s only upscale restaurant for many years. She was quite sad about the change.
I’m now sitting in The Grayston Unity, a micropub which would fit into my living room at home, at the suggestion of the security guard in Halifax Town Hall. I was here to see an event about the rebuilding of Elland Bridge after the devastating flood of Boxing Day 2015. I’d see a flier advertising the lecture and slide show but there was no mention, absolutely zero mention of the event online. i eventually found a photo that I’d taken of the flier on a wall in Halifax and showed up early to check that I was in the right place. The security guard looks at the large screen behind him with Today’s events emblazoned in bright colours. No mention of the lecture. ‘Is it to do with the Civic Trust?’ he asks. ‘I think so.’ ‘Well, in that case it’ll be in Room 2 upstairs.’ ‘Is it happening at 7.30 tonight?’ ‘I don’t know! I did put a screen in room 2 earlier today. But they’ll bring their own projector.’ ‘OK. Where can I get a cup of tea while I wait?’ ‘Ee, not in ‘ere luv. This is ‘t Town ‘all.’ In the end he directed me here to this little tiny pub where I got just what I asked for, plus the loan of a pen to write my journal since both mine had run themselves dry. As iItook my seat I saw David arrive – the man who had led the urban walk AND read the lesson in Halifax Minster. Evidently he is the vice president of the Civic Trust too and he was introducing the guest speaker.
Canal-side garden. My mum used to have this very bread bin!
Former glories
For sale at Todmorden market
Imagine how long it takes to set up and take down this each day!
Yum yum
Grey skies don’t deter the shoppers
The elegance of Halifax Town hall
10 people were at the presentation
On the set of a Bollywood feature film being shot at Shibden Hall (featured memorably in Last tango in Halifax)
Shibden Hall
From the sublime to the ridiculous . . .
Really?
After our10 mile hike!
Several months ago when planning my trip I’d come across a book by Jean Illingworth describing her childhood in the small village of Sowerby, a mile above Sowerby Bridge. Today we had arranged to meet and she was to give me a personal guided tour of the town. Since so many of my ancestors were married and baptized in Sowerby Bridge they probably knew Sowerby. They may have lived there.
The wash house in Jean’s old back yard was originally the village’s slaughter house. We saw the iron rings embedded in the flag floor to tether the animals, and some of the red paint on the walls was visible – to disguise the blood spatters! Sowerby
Jean, who worked in the media library at the Halifax Courier was waiting for me at St Peter’s church after my train and bus journey and immediately we were off, she as eager to share her knowledge as I was to learn about the small town. She’d brought old photos of the center of the town so I could see the destruction of the old buildings in order to make room for 1950s and 1960s ugly buildings. Where the side streets remained intact the place felt very much like Heptonstall. In fact the relative location of Heptonstall to Hebden Bridge is identical to that of Sowerby and Sowerby Bridge. St Peter’s church is the third to stand on that site and it was built by a Halifax stonemason called John Wilson and based on Holy Trinity Church in Leeds — opened in Jan 1763 – tower added in 1781. It certainly is unusual architecture for a small northern church. A brand new house totally out of character has recently been built on the main street. Jean is known by everyone in the center of the village and we were able to take a peek into stunning gardens, the village wash house, slaughter house, even a two seater toilet! Jean’s book received accolades from 2 local residents: MP Austin Mitchell (lives at Long Field, Dean Lane) and Sir Ernest Hall who was responsible for the redevelopment of Dean Clough Mills in Halifax. We went to see their homes.
“Congratulations on doing such an important job!”
Sir Ernest Hall
“Brings Sowerby to life, and I love the photos”
Austin Mitchell, MP
Jean and the house in which she was born. Her father delivered her at the fireplace
A council estate was built, shops created and many of the original building subsequently lost their views of the hills. Jean showed me where she was born, where she currently lives and her schools. Here is the rare Georgian house, Field House, that belonged to the Stansfeld family. Sir Ernest Hall bought the Field House estate in the mid 1980’s but now lives in Lanzarote.
Returning to Sowerby Bridge by bus because I didn’t have the time to walk back down as I would have wished but I got a very nice ham, cranberry and brie sandwich and tea and went to sit by the canal. And then it was time for meeting #2.
Marion Barraclough had come to my attention on Ancestry.com. Her husband is a Barraclough and we were both tracing the same line of Barracloughs, so she drove over from Burnley with her daughter and grandson and we arranged to meet in the Innovation
Cafe. She’d told me that she’d be instantly recognizable because she has purple hair. It speaks realms that the first woman I approached with purple hair wasn’t Marion! She’d brought some family photos and some paper from her research that she’s been working on for around ten years. She married a Barraclough, and had a son and daughter, and then divorce him and married his brother. They had a son and a daughter too, and they’ve been married for over 20 years. One of her grandsons is just about to go to college in Guilford as a . . . music major (guitar). She also has twin granddaughters. It transpired that her mother’s family were Waddingtons (same as mine but her family came from Briarfield!). We had a lovely time, and if my Nutton and Barraclough families intersect as I think they do, Marion’s daughter and grandson would be my blood relatives, though distant.
In the evening the Proms were dedicated to David Bowie and had a wonderful anthology of new arrangements of his songs – quite magical.
Keith and I met at 9 a.m. outside the Coop, ready for a day exploring Beverley, a town in East Yorkshire that I’d never been to. Keith’s mother’s family had the surname Beverley and he’s always wanted to visit the town. it took two hours to drive there, in spite of it only being 78 miles. Apart from the driving on the M62 around Leeds the rest of the journey was on much narrower country roads. North Cave and Wallingford were two little tows that looked quite delightful.
Contemporary embroidery
We parked right by the Minster and made that imposing edifice our first call. This parish church looks like a cathedral and the most interesting feature, both inside and out are the many carvings. I asked a docent about one grotesque and we learned that many of the figures are musicians. In fact, Beverley was the center of the Medieval guild of musicians for the north of England. There were at least 39 medieval guilds. What a wonderful coincidence: we’ve got a music connection.
Beverley Minster
We had lunch in a tea shop and then went to wander around the market town. Unlike Hebden Bridge with its unique stores Beverly has all the shops that Keith recognized from Bath. Beverley has always had reputation of being gentile – rather like Harrogate and Bath. There’s little evidence of industry, and it’s surrounded by rolling countryside and cows. In fact just outside the town there’s on open grazing space and we had to wait until a cow crossed the road. Welcome to the North! It seems hard to imagine that the town was once a port, and so had access to many weird and wonderful items from overseas.
Sculpture exhibition in the minster
We spent an hour in the ‘Treasure House’ (local history museum) looking through a book about the guilds – not no mention of the musicians guild – and dipping into Find Your Past for Beverleys from Beverley. Keith began to see the huge scope of his task! We walked to St Martin’s church but we couldn’t find any Beverley tomb-stones there. One of Keith’s relatives had apparently found some on a previous visit. he faced-timed his mom so that she could see what we were seeing.
We had a lot of rain on the drive back and the mist was covering the hilltops but by the time we reached Hebden Bridge the sun was shining and I got some of the best shots of the center of the town with the late afternoon light after the heavy rain. We looked in several estate agents’ windows and then we walked along the canal to Stubbin Wharf and had dinner. We’d had a 12 hour day chatting constantly after not spending time with each other for more than ten years.
Center of Hebden bridge
This morning I went on a hike – and, in order to be prepared for rain I took my big backpack, reminding myself not to forget anything from my small day bag. It wasn’t until I was on the bus to Luddenden Foot that the one thing I had forgotten was my iphone, and thence my camera. I wondered for a few minutes if I should continue and do the hike since I wouldn’t have a means of calling for help in an emergency – and the sky was full of wonderful clouds and casting lovely shadows for photos. But, what was one day out of 45? I’d go on the hike and just wouldn’t have any photos, so that’s what I did.
I was using In the Steps of the Brontës book- which had felt like taking coal to Newcastle when I put it in my luggage in California.So today it was Branwell’s turn.
“Three weird sisters
Imbecile silence
Of a stone god
Cut into gravestones
The brother, who tasted the cauldron of thunder
Electrocuted.
A house
Emptied and scarred black.
In a land
Emptied and scarred black.”
from Haworth Parsonage by Ted Hughes
He’d worked Clerk in charge at the station in Luddenden foot and though one of the streets is called station road there’s nothing left of the station. He drank at the Lord Nelson pub in Luddenden where I’d planned to have lunch but it doesn’t open til 4. The climb from Luddenden Foot to Luddenden wasn’t very interesting, just modern housing. But soon I was in the old village, steeply set into the hillside with a church and pub close to the river. In Branwell’s time the pub and a good library upstairs. Unusually the graveyard was across the river from the church, and also surprisingly the church door was open. It felt rather creepy going in. There was a quilt made in commemoration of the Queen’s reign and a notice said that it had been inspired by a similar quilt – in Ullapool (from where I’d sailed to the Outer Hebrides). The path followed Luddenden Brook to the hamlet of Goit Side. The old school is currently for sale. Opposite the school I climbed some steps and set off diagonally crossing a very steep field where the nettles were head high. I got lovely views of open moorland as I continued on to Jerusalem Farm. I’m sure I can recall my mom talking about staying there. It’s now an educational center. I retraced my steps, coming upon a man with his two little children feeding Poppy, the donkey. They gave me some carrots so I could join in – very sweet.
My front garden in Hebden Bridge
Dodging the cars back on the main road in an effort to get to the bus stop was a major obstacle but I got back to Hebden Bridge in time for a late lunch and waited for Keith to arrive from Bath. he’d never been North of Stratford-upon-Avon before so Hebden Bridge must have been quite a culture shock for him. He parked at the Coop and walked onto the canal bridge so that I could see him, and he could see my window . Though he’d tried to book a B and B it turned out to be in Cragg Vale, so off we went to find his place. It was way up on the tops with magnificent views. It was an old farm form the 1700s that had been entirely rebuilt in 1987, by one of the 9 founders of Oracle. His wife was Keith’s host. His
room was lovely, overlooking a field with 2 alpacas! and a truly magnificent bathroom. We made tea and chatted for a while then headed up to Heptonstall for what I think is the most stunning view of Hebden Bridge. We parked at the Top o’t’ town and strolled along the cobbled streets, wandered around the ruined church and had dinner at the White Lion. We found lots to talk about before he dropped me off back in Hebden Bridge.
Tuesday 5:20 Innovation cafe, Hebden Bridge
So a day without plans . . . From my room I could see an imposing old hall across the valley, a little higher than my building so, around 11 a.m. 9a lazy morning writing up my blog) I headed up New Road which climbed steeply until I came to the hall. Despite the intermittent downpours there was an amazing view from this elevated position and I could just seen the window of my room peeking out between the trees. Still wanting to walk some more I walked the entirety of Palace Road where newer brick houses and a few new 
stone houses delineate the extent of the town til 1900. I spent the afternoon trying to make an imovie of my day trip to St Kilda (which, incidentally, is still the only day that I haven’t written about). Around 5 p.m. I headed out for some air and to stretch my legs which is why at 5:20 you find me sitting outside the Innovation cafe, the last customer before it closed. I firmed up my appointment with Jean Illingworth who is going to give me a personal tour of Sowerby on friday morning. She also has a friend, Maggie, a features editor who wants to meet with me. . . .
On the way back to my house I found myself going to check out the Trades Club. When I was living a’t’mill I shied away from this place. It looked a bit dodgy from the outside. Chris said she’d been banned from it, but I was eager to find something to do this evening, and one of the bands was a Beatles cover band, so I thought I’d compare them to the Sun Kings in the Bay area. So I opened the grubby door, mounted the unclean steps and was overwhelmed by a strange smell . . .oh, that’s right. This place serves Himalayan food for 4 pounds each evening. I bought a ticket from the box office and took a look at the band doing a sound check. Moon Duo, the headliner is from San Francisco!
It might only have been 8 pounds to get in but a pint of cider was 4 pounds 10p (by far the most expensive I’ve had on the trip) – and it had fermented – ugh! The other two bands were Hey Bulldog (but no Beatles music tonight) and Goa Express. The place got packed as the night progressed and despite the ceiling fans it was uncomfortably hot in there. I left at 10:30 halfway through the last set and had literally to squeeze myself between people to make my exit.
I was glad of the flashlight on my iphone coming home else I would have found the steps and the key code very difficult, if not impossible.
© 2025 In Search of my Yorkshire Roots
Theme by Anders Norén — Up ↑
Recent Comments