Category: Travel / Out and About (Page 3 of 18)

Every time I take the 901 towards Huddersfield I think to myself as the bus climbs up a very steep valley through Cragg Vale ‘wouldn’t it be interesting to walk down this road? I’d see more.’ So today i set out to do just that. Actually to be honest, I didn’t. When I put my coat on to set off my goal was to take the bus to the very top of Cragg Vale and walk from Sykes Gate to Sowerby, a hike a took a few weeks ago for the first time. But on entry into the street there was a bitingly cold wind and the blister on my toe was making itself felt, so an 8 mile hike along th’ tops didn’t seem such a good idea. I was unsure if the bus would show up but it did and it w whisked me up the road  proudly claims to be the longest continual ascent in England. 968 feet of climbing in 5.5 miles.

I knew from riding the bus that some of the roadway has no sidewalk but I did find these two happy people showing me where I should walk!

The view down the valley is superb and in this time of uncertainty I thanked my lucky stars that I live in such a beautiful place. I followed the Elphin brook for a little while and then came to a holiday let which Sarah told me about recently. I went onto the drive to take a photo of the view and a lady came out of the fairly new cottage. She is the owner and invited me in to show me one of the three adjoining cottages – very nicely appointed.

I decided on a whim to take a little detour down to the river where St John’s church and the Hinchcliffe Arms pub are located. The church has a rather odd name – St John’s in the Wilderness. I noticed a recent notice taped to the door about the current emergency, so St John’s isn’t so much in the wilderness as it would like to be.

Jimmy Saville had associations with this church and raised thousands of pound for its upkeep and he was an honourary church warden. More about his association with Cragg Vale: https://bitsofbooksblog.wordpress.com/2014/08/08/savile-and-st-johns-in-the-wilderness/

There are several documentary films about Saville, whom my mum believed she met on a cycling holiday when she was in the 20’s. Just across from the church is the Hinchcliffe Arms, obviously now closed but I used the picnic tables outside for a good place to have my picnic and consult my map. Apparently Saville used to park his camper van in the pub car park.

I decided to take a wander up a narrow lane and I soon found myself facing Cragg Hall, which I remembered visiting on a drive around the area a few months ago. Again, I was struck by the thought of what an area for me to live in where I can see these beautiful buildings and can walk back to my home.

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I’d passed the ruins of a mill on the main road and now, in the trees, I could see an old mill chimney. I’d never associated Cragg Vale with industry. I’d just though of it as an old handloom weaver’s community suspended in time.

I saw a sign pointing to the Coiners’ Barn, but it wasn’t an official sign and there was no indication of distance but I was enjoying myself so I followed the sign. Last year I’d read The Gallows Pole by Ben Myers, who lives in Hebden Bridge. It’s the story of the Cragg Vale coiners, a band of counterfeiters who produced fake gold coins in the late 18th century to supplement small incomes from weaving. It was a very very vivid book given to graphic violence in places but even more than the storyline I was fascinated by the historical references, especially about the new enclosure laws that were appearing around the same time. I immediately read all his other books!

The road I was following had been paved but obviously from the recent flooding there were a lot of dangerous potholes, even sink holes. I realised that this was the way Sarah and I had approached Stoodley Pike on our vacation here in 2017, wanting to find the shortest path up to the tower. Today the car park at the reservoir was packed and cars were parked along the lane but people were far and few between, there being so many paths and open ground.

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At the end of the dam is the imposing building of Pasture, the only farm building remaining of the 15 that once were scattered along Withins Clough. It looked inviting to walk around the reservoir. A sign showed that it’s only 2.5 Km around but:

‘I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep’

Pasture Top

Photos of things I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t been walking

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1. Find an area I’ve been wanting to explore for a while
2. I’ve been marking on my OS all the hikes I’ve taken over the last 2 years – in pink
3. Mark all the hikes I take in this moment of global crisis – in purple
4. Take photos of quirky things
5. Cv look-alikes in nature

Somewhere in my ancestry research I had seen mentioned Edge Lane, Colden. In fact on my OS I have ringed some buildings on Edge Lane in pencil. And whenever I’ve taken the bus to Blackshaw Head I’ve passed Edge Lane and thought ‘I should get off the bus here sometime and explore.’ So today was the day. But with over 9000 people in my family tree now I simply can’t remember the connection with Edge Lane, though I seem to recall it was a school or chapel.

I got off the bus, at Edge Lane intending to walk up for a half a mile or so, then return back to the main road and walk down Hudson Mill Road back down to Hebden. This was my first time on an Access bus, smaller than the usual zippy bus, and a reflection of the lack of customers.

Edge Lane follows a contour line and so there’s little up and down hill which made it easy to walk. Though the paved section finished quite early it remained a real bridleway, clearly marked and mostly between well maintained walls. On both sides occasional farms were scattered but these were greatly outnumbered by fields of sheep. Several farmers were using the good weather day to repair fences, rebuild walls and some were on quad bikes, delivering food to the sheep.

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For a mile or so four people on horses were a little way in front of me which gave me confidence to continue straight ahead. I did meet a couple of hikers and I chatted to check my route. At one time a couple of bicycles were slowed down by the horses in front.

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Again, like yesterday I found that people were far more friendly than usual. It’s not uncommon for me to walk along the canal and pass 20 or so people who don’t even smile or say hello. I wonder if it’s the fact that everyone is currently having to adjust to the new restrictions – ‘we’re all in this together’ kind of attitude.

I saw a couple of footpath signs pointing to Gorple reservoir and asked a couple of walkers if the track ahead was well trodden and easy to find. I was assured that it was, so I kept on going. I wasn’t going to go off on any barely visible paths but I’d stick to a clearly marked one. At one point I passed a ruined farm that’s undergoing major restoration. It’s name New Edge Farm made me smile. If that was new Edge farm I wondered what Old edge farm must look like!

Suddenly i crested the ridge and there before me was not one reservoir but 4, Gorple being the closest. In all directions I could only see one building and after consulting my map I realised that the building was the Pack Horse, Widdop. Of course, like all the pubs in England now it is closed. Voted the most scenic pub in Britain for 2004, this converted and whitewashed 17th century laithe farmhouse is known locally as ‘The Ridge’. Set in a beautiful and remote location close to the Pennine Way, it stands at a height of 298 metres above sea level, affording spectacular moorland views. I’d been there twice before in sept 2018 when I was researching Willie Wrigley, my colourful second cousin three times removed! I wrote a blog about him: http://blog.hmcreativelady.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=7462&action=edit

On the night of the census, March 31, 1901 Willie, an architect, spent the night in this remote inn. I was beyond surprised to see this in from this vantage point. I sat down for a few minutes to consult my map and during that time I saw smoke beginning to appear from the moorland above the inn. There was no point heading over to the inn since it was closed but this would make a great walk when things get back to normal.

As I retraced my steps back along Edge Lane to Jack Bridge I took photos of ‘cv’ reminders in nature. I even met a lady with a crazy hat that reminded me of cv cells! I followed the main road to The New Delight, also closed, and headed off down Hudson Mill Road. I’ve hiked this road maybe 6 times during the last two years. It takes about an hour to get home from there.

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I’ve written about that walk and my ancestors who lived there in another blog: http://blog.hmcreativelady.com/wp-admin/post.php?post=7569&action=edit

I joined the canal back in Hebden and popped into the Coop to buy some more fresh food. although some shelves were empty I was still able to buy fresh fruit and veg. When I turned on the telly later there were accounts of people waiting in queues of up to 50 people to get into supermarkets.

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I was the only person on the platform at Hebden Bridge station, something I don’t ever remember seeing before. The train to Leeds was virtually empty with only 2 other people in my compartment. It’s only an 8 minute ride to Sowerby Bridge and again the weather was bright and sunny. My initial idea was to walk from Brighouse to Sowerby but that felt a little too far this morning so I changed it to a 7 miler.

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I was amazed how many people were walking along the towpath. I’ve never seen so many, mostly with their dogs. In particular there were many men. These two, who were running a dog walking service were happy to pose for a photo.

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The canal passes close to the village of Copley and I decided to go and take another look. I think I’ve been there 3 times before. the last time was in May last year and I took a photo of the church door which I then used as inspiration for a textile project. It wasn’t until I was doing some online research for this post that I discovered that the Copley Conservation area use the very same photo for their cover photo.

Copley was a built as a model village by Colonel Edward Ackroyd in the Calder Valley to the south of Halifax. He also built Ackroyden where All Souls church is. He bought a disused mill on the banks of the River Calder in 1844,  demolished it and built a larger mill that was completed in 1847. To house his workforce Akroyd built a “model industrial settlement” of 112 back-to-back houses in three terraces with shops at the end. The first houses, described by Pevsner, as built in a “picturesque Pennine Vernacular” style were completed in 1849. They have two bedrooms and had “privies” in the front gardens. Rents proved to be high and the next two terraces were built more cheaply. Another row of through houses, one room deep, was built in 1865 after the back-to-backs were criticised in an article in The Builder.^[

To attract and retain a workforce outside the urban area of Halifax, Akroyd provided not only houses but built a school, library and reading room, a co-operative store, the parish church, a recreation ground and cricket club and promoted the savings bank, burial and clothing clubs, allotment gardens and the horticultural and floral society.^[ The school was built in 1849 and a year later a library. Akroyd also paid for much of the cost of St Stephen’s Church which was built between 1861 and 1865 on the opposite side of the river to the designs of W. H. Crossland. Copley predated Saltaire which Titus Salt built for his workers. The architect was Crossland, a pupil of George Gilbert Scott.

I headed back under the immense Copley viaduct which carries the railway line to Brighouse and beyond. These two gentlemen walking along the towpath looked equipped for climbing the high peaks of England

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Continuing my photos of corona virus related items:

I ended my journey at Sowerby Bridge railway station which, besides being where Branwell Bronte worked, sports the (now closed) Jubilee Tea Rooms which has the distinction of being the only pub I’ve ever been thrown out of! I haver a fridge magnet to commemorate the occasion.

So, what to read?

Every so often I’ll read a novel, become engrossed by it, and then read other books by the same author: recent examples being Benjamen Myers and Sebastien Faulks whose books I picked up at random, usually in free book swaps. But I don’t read a lot of fiction. Last week I was reading Ranulph Fiennes autobiography in preparation for going to see him but who knows whether this event will take place now.

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Last week I was browsing in a second hand book store in Todmorden and my eye alighted on a book by Terry Jones of Monty Python fame. But next to it was a book – How to be a failure and succeed. It was the author’s name that attracted my attention – Sir Ernest Hall and I realised that it had been written by the father of someone I know who I’d met in a creative writing class in Hebden Bridge. I’d been invited to spent Christmas Eve with her family in a wonderful old hall dating from the 17th century. In one room was a grand piano. The book shop was closed and when I went again the following week although the shop was open the window display had changed.

It’s one of those wonderful old book stores where the assistant sits on a stool surrounded by battered boxes overflowing with books. I explained my mission, talked briefly about ‘the virus’ and its impact on small businesses, and was told that if they could locate it they’d call me. On the very day I finished the Fiennes book Sir Ernest Hall’s book arrived in the post. Quickly scanning the chapters I learned he grew up in the same town as me, Bolton, that his father worked in the same cotton mill as my mum and her dad, Swan Lane Mill, that his father had the same job in that mill as my grandad!

Then Ernest went on to study piano at the Northern College of Music in Manchester. I couldn’t believe the parallels between his life and mine and I called his daughter to share the story, and she called him to tell him! Over the following few days as I read about the similarities of his school experiences to mine I became absorbed in the book. He’d mention districts and streets that I knew well as a child.

Coming from a tiny village school in Affetside where there were 30 children in the entire school, divided into two classrooms and entering a large school with over 750 students when I was 11 was so overwhelming for me that i never came to terms with it. Coupled with the fact that for me to get to school each day I had to walk through three fields, usually full of cows, (in my wellies which I then changed for my ‘school shoes’, leaving my wellies in the porch of an obliging lady who lived next to the bus stop) then catch two buses, while many of the girls arrived at school in elegant cars, often driven by nannies.

I’m looking forward to continuing with the book

It had been almost a year since I’d been on The Long Causeway, a road running along the top of the ridge from Blackshaw Head. I’d taken my daughters there and we’d had a grand old time exploring Bridestones, outcrops of millstone grit rocks and boulders which are ½ a mile long. Amongst these rocky outcrops are a number of odd-shaped formations that have been caused by weather-related erosion over thousands, if not millions of years.  One huge boulder in particular, known as ‘The Great Bridestone’ is fantastically shaped at its base, looking like an up-turned bottle, as if it might topple over at any moment. There are a number of myths and legends associated with The Bridestones, many of these going back to the mists of time. More recently, perhaps, there are a number of local traditions that have become connected to the place and its many, strange-shaped rocks and boulders. However, today I wasn’t going to explore the stones, which necessitates a diversion from the road.

Again, it was another sunny day, and a couple of times on the hike I felt positively warm! Starting from Blackshaw Head Bridestones can be see in the far distance, it it looked a mighty long way. There were great views over the Calder Valley to Stoodley pike and there were a few newborn lambs enjoying the sunshine too. At one point I decided to take a cart track, clearly marked on my map but it soon petered out into a narrow footpath heading steeply down so I backtracked, something which I don’t like doing, and kept to the road. Very few cars passed, a few bicycles, no other walkers, but someone on a pony came along and then galloped off into a field.

I was taking this walk because of the virus and of course that was on my mind as I took some photos of things in nature that resembled the diagrams of the virus itself which pervades our news screens incessantly at the moment:

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I passed several old halls before arriving in the little community of Cross Stones. It’s dominated by a church which can be seen from Todmorden perched high above the town. I have several ancestors buried in the cemetery. There has been a church here since about 1450 and it was built as a Chapel of Ease for Heptonstall Parish to serve the townships of Stansfield and Langfield. A chapel of ease was specifically built for the convenience of those parishoners who could not easily get to the main church. It is built high up on the hills above the Todmorden valley, with wonderful views over the surrounding countryside. But it’s a very steep climb and it must have been quite a task to get a coffin up there on a snowy day in winter. It wouldn’t have been very pleasant for the mourners either, who would probably have had to walk to the graveyard. In recent times the fabric of the building became unsafe and the church was closed and converted to a private house. As I approached I saw a for sale sign – hmmm, church of sale, but no, it was the old school next door that was for sale.

A few years after 1713 a man named Pilling collected £65 from friends in London and with local help as well, he built a schoolhouse near Cross Stone Church. It was maintained by the chapelry and in 1743 the interest on the money made £3 a year, which paid for the free instruction of six poor children. The teacher was the chapelry clerk and he was paid by the parents of the 30-40 schoolchildren for instructing them in reading and writing. A William Greenwood says that he held school on Sunday mornings and up to twenty children attended. They were charged one penny a week. Quills cost half a penny, copy books two pennies, a reading easy was sixpence and “rithmetic” was one shilling and eight pence. The top room housed the school and the bottom served as the jail, whilst the far right hand end of the house was the home of the schoolmaster.

A few gravestones surround the actual church but a large graveyard is across the street and it is still in use. One of the original entrance post is still intact but the other one is prostrate but its cap has been incorporated into the wall.

Close by I came across a ceramic frog in someone’s garden and I took a photo of it for an art project I’m working on. Then just around the corner I saw the following road sign.

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6.2 miles

1. Hike, exploring new territory
2. Find a connection with my ancestors

I’d been to Baitings reservoir a couple of times before, once with a hiking buddy, once with friends Jean and John when Anna came to stay but though I’d walked across the dam I hadn’t walked around the entire reservoir. So, bus up Cragg Vale on t’th’ tops and then a walk around the dam.

It only took ab out 45 minutes to walk around the reservoir, about the same time as walking round Lafayette reservoir so I decided to walk into the little town at the foot of the valley, Ripponden. This required passing through the ‘Dam Car Park.’

There’s a new series of Last Tango in Halifax airing at the mom ent and in last week’s episode there was a scene in which sheep were being herded across the old bridge in Ripponden. Perhaps that was what reminded me of the little town and brought me to it today. Rather than follow the main road down I headed off across to the other side of the Ryburn valley and followed Blue Ball Road.

I was enjoying the lovely Spring sunshine so I decided to extend my walk to Soyland, a tiny upland village which I haven’t been to before. My reason was that one of my ancestors kept a pub there. Just as I arrived at the village a man walking his dog came into view. “Are you local?” I asked. Yes, he was and so I asked him about the pub, the White Hart. He told me that there was once a pub in the village and he remembered it. “You’ll see a big stone flag attached to the wall by the front door. That used to be the urinal!” I thanked him for this interesting snippet of information and walked on. “Oh, by the way,” he called after me. “There’s a White Hart Fold” about a mile up from Ripponden on the Rochdale road. There used to be a pub there.” Sure enough just around the bend I found what must have been an former pub with the stone slab for the urinal! But whether this wasw, or was not The White Hart that one of my ancestors used to run I have not yet been able to ascertain. “License of the White Hart, Soyland, transferred from Mr.John Bell to Mr.Henry Redman of Heptonstall. License of the Black Bull, Heptonstall, transferred from Mr.Henry Redman to Mr.George Greenwood. (Halifax Courier, 12th May 1855)” This was the same man who had been the licensee of Handle Hall Inn, Calderbrook, Littleborough which I’d visited a couple of days ago.

The road eventually became very steep as it headed into Ripponden and I made a beeline for the Bridge Pub for some much needed refreshment. It was far less busy than usual and I sat at a table well removed from others, keeping my distance.

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Strategies for dealing with the collapse of the world as I know it:

1. Go for a hike
2. Take pretty pictures
3. Find some connection with my ancestry
4. Do some research
5. Write a blog

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Arthur Moss, one time owner of the Sportsman was related to me.

Arthur was born in Garden Square, Hebden Bridge, an area in the centre of town that no longer exists. He was one of 8 children born to Joseph Moss, a fustian cutter and in time Arthur entered the same business. The family lived for a time at Buttress Bottom, a collection of ramshackled dwellings. Milltown Memories describes it thus:

Most problematical of all was Buttress Brink, where occupants had to walk through a gloomy ground floor tunnel still lit by gas lamps, climb steep steps set into an almost vertical hillside, then cross bridges spanning the gaps between hillside and property. Needless to say the homes within boasted no modern amenities such as bathrooms and toilets; the kitchens, small and cramped, had only a single cold water tap over a stone sink.

By the time Arthur was 8 the family had moved just across the street to Royd Terrace. Arthur lived there until he married Mary Ann Sutcliffe at St John’s Halifax in 1893. 1895 sees Arthur and his new family, two children, in Mytholmroyd. 1904-1908 they were at 1 Bottom Laithe, Mytholmroyd

Relationship to me!!!

Arthur Moss 1869-1927
1st cousin 1x removed of husband of 3rd cousin 2x removed

Joseph Moss 1834-1910
Father of Arthur Moss

James Moss jn 1804-1868
Father of Joseph Moss

Hague Moss 1824-1870
Son of James Moss jn

Abraham Moss 1859-1917
Son of Hague Moss

Walter Edward Moss 1888-1940
Son of Abraham Moss

Phyllis Wrigley-Moss 1893-1967
Wife of Walter Edward Moss

John Edward Wrigley 1863-1929
Father of Phyllis Wrigley-Moss

George Wrigley 1831-1900
Father of John Edward Wrigley

Thomas Wrigley 1809-1875
Father of George Wrigley

James Wrigley 1778-1846
Father of Thomas Wrigley

James Wrigley 1811-1886
Son of James Wrigley

ELIZABETH ANN WHITHAM-NUTTON-LEEMING 1840-1905
Daughter of James Wrigley

JOHN NUTTON 1862-1934
Son of ELIZABETH ANN WHITHAM-NUTTON-LEEMING

FLORENCE NUTTON-DENTON 1895-1979
Daughter of JOHN NUTTON

Jack Dean Denton 1920-1995
Son of FLORENCE NUTTON-DENTON

Heather Jacqueline Denton
You are the daughter of Jack Dean Denton

My Saturday plans had fallen through due to “social distancing” and so a friend had suggested a walk around Hollingworth Lake. However, the weather was a bit iffy – heavy clouds and intermittent rain, so we drove around the countryside, exploring no end of country lanes that petered out into footpaths or were barred, literally, by sturdy gates: a perfect Saturday afternoon in the countryside.

Out circuitous driving took us over the Pennines from Yorkshire into Lancashire. We spent some time in the Littleborough area where she had lived for a while, exploring the tiny hamlet of Whittaker with its lovely Heather Mount cottage.

I was surprised by the steepness of the single track lanes rising out of the valley, and several times we had to back a considerable distance in order to pass oncoming traffic. Another area new to me was Ealees. As we were driving around the Calderbrook area I suddenly recognised an ancient building on the roadside. It was built directly onto the road and was a long building adjoining a barn. It was named Handle Hall Inn, Calderbrook, although it’s now a private dwelling. Last year, as I was doing some ancestry research, I’d found an old photo of this place when it was still an inn, thanks to the Rochdale History Society Facebook page, and driving past it I’d recognised the building. We stopped so I could take a couple of photos but when I got home it took me a couple hours to find my family’s connection to the place. But what else was I to do on a Saturday night now that Match of the Day’s been cancelled for the foreseeable future.

We stopped to have lunch at Rebecca’s, a little cafe in the centre of Littleborough. I’ve walked along the canal through the town several times, and have stopped for a drink in The Wheatsheaf once while waiting for a train but I’ve never explored the little town, population 7500. It owes its origins to being at the junction of two ancient road over the Pennines, one being a Roman Road – Blackstone Edge. I have a very early memory of a drive out with my mum and dad along Blackstone Edge on a very foggy day. When they told me it was an old Roman Road I was quite scared because I expected to see a Roman centurion appearing out of the mist from the hillside. By the end of the Middle Ages Littleborough consisted of a church, a cluster of cottages and the primary occupation was hand loom weaving and sheep farming. Merchants passed through the town on their way to markets in Halifax and Rochdale. It’s interesting that the Wrigley part of my family, my gt gt gt gt grandfather, James Wrigley, moved from Rochdale to Heptonstall between 1809 and 1811. During the industrial revolution cotton became the major industry and mills, houses for the workers and mansions for the mill owners appeared both in the town and in the surrounding hills and hamlets. In 1804 the Rochdale Canal over the Pennines was finished, necessitating a tunnel over ‘Summit.’ The first time I walked the tow path of the canal over the summit, April 2018, I thought I was going to have to walk through a tunnel! Hollingworth Lake was built to provide a steady water supply for the canal. It was one of my mum’s favourite trips out after she moved to Tottington and she took my family there on one of our visits to England. In 1841 the Manchester and Leeds railway followed a similar route to the canal, and also necessitated a long summit tunnel. There is a ruined mill on the canal bank which always attracts my attention when I walk the tow path, and a beautiful old hall, still lived in is close by.

HENRY REDMAN

Henry was baptised at Heptonstall church on Christmas day, 1836. His parents were William and Mary. Along with Henry, who was born on Aug 12, 1806, his two siblings were also baptised, Richard, who had been born on April 16, 1809 and Elizabeth, who had been born on April 27, 1816. It wasn’t particularly unusual for several siblings to be baptised on the same day, but what is unusual was for them to be so old: Henry was 30 years old.

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If I hadn’t seen a facsimile of the actual church record on Ancestry.com I wouldn’t have believed it! In fact it would seem that henry was already married before he was baptised since his children were Elizabeth (1834-1897-, John (1838-1881) and Sarah Ann (1841-1881). William was born 1843 and Hamlet in 1847.

In the 1841 census the family are living at Back Lane Heptonstall where Henry is a reed maker. A reed, in weaving terms, is rather like a comb and is used to push the weft yarn into place once the shuttle has pulled it through the warp threads on the loom. This would tie in nicely with Heptonstall being a village of handloom weavers at this time. Also living with them is Richard Redman, aged 25, a tin plate worker, someone who made or repaired tinware.

The 1851 census has the family living at, yes, Lily Hall, where Henry is still a reed maker, and now also a farmer of 7 acres. but by 1851 the Wrigleys, the Farrars and the Whithams, all ancestors of mine are no longer living at Lily Hall. In a newspaper of 1855 I found: License of the White Hart, Soyland, transferred from Mr.John Bell to Mr.Henry Redman of Heptonstall. License of the Black Bull, Heptonstall, transferred from Mr.Henry Redman to Mr.George Greenwood. (Halifax Courier, 12th May 1855).

This seems to imply that Henry gave up the Black Bull at Heptonstall and took over the White Hart in Soyland. On July 22, 1854 Henry’s daughter, Elizabeth had married George Greenwood, a painter from Heptonstall so it would appear that Henry signed the Black Bull over to his son-in-law, and he moved to Soyland. Both pubs are now private residences. The White Hart closed in the 1990s. The Black Bull closed in the 1920s though it was used as a working men’s club until 1972.

The next time I find Henry is as the landlord of the Handle Hall inn in Calderbrook, Littleborough, the building I recognised on my drive yesterday. Apart from Elizabeth, who is now running the Black Bull, his wife and all his children remain with him. In the listed building register it is described thus: The rebuilding of a house of 1610, with the barn added in the 1840s, they are in stone with a stone-slate roof. The house has quoins and eaves, cornice, two storeys and three bays. There are two doorways with ogee-headed lintels and hood moulds and the windows are mullioned, those in the ground floor with hood moulds. Above a door is an inscribed and dated plaque. The barn to the right has a round-arch wagon entrance and round windows. I’d contacted a Facebook page about Rochdale pubs past and present in December of last year and I’d had 18 responses, one of which gave me a link to a study that Rochdale Local Studies group had done on the pub complete with photos, a map and general information. Someone even responded that their gt gt gt grandparents had kept the pub. Henry lists his occupation as farmer and innkeeper but by 1871 he is a retired farmer living at #4, Wilderness. this presented me with an interesting problem: Where is ‘Wilderness’? Again Facebook to the rescue: Wilderness was an area of Summit Littleborough around the Royal Oak (later The Huntsman Inn) on Todmorden Rd. Henry Redman was the licensee of The Queen Anne Inn between 1858 and 1861. OK the dates aren’t quite accurate but now I know where Wilderness is.

Another responder also goes on to say: Just had a look on Google Earth to see if any of the terraces at Summit have Wilderness on them but no luck. So it would appear that there are some terraces near the Summit which Henry and Ann lived in but 1881 find them in Maden’s Square, right in the centre of Littleborough. No doubt life at the summit was difficult for a couple now in their mid 70’s. Henry died in 1884 and was buried at Heptonstall church on March 10th.

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I couple of weeks ago during a rehearsal of my chamber music group we happened to sight read through an arrangement of Ketelbey’s ‘In a Persian Market.’ This brought back memories of my childhood when my dad used to give me music for birthday and Christmas presents. The pieces were usually ones that he had grown up with, and one of them was ‘In a Persian Market.’ I’m pretty sure I still have the sheet music he gave me. When it was first published, in 1920, in a version for piano, it was advertised as an “educational novelty”. It had an orange and back cover and at one point there are words: A chorus of beggars sings: “Baksheesh! baksheesh Allah;” passers-by sing “Empshi” (“get away”). One of our group commented on how such words are now politically incorrect and ‘you certainly couldn’t sing that now where I live.’ On further conversation I ascertained that he lives in Keighley, a town close to Haworth, which I can get to easily by bus, over t’ tops, one of my favourite bus rides in fact. ‘Is there anything in particular i should see in the town?’ I asked. ‘Well, there’s Cliffe Castle about 15 minutes walk from the bus station.’

So here I am, on a beautiful sunny day, scatterings of snow clinging to the bases of the walls on the moors for their very existence. Dropping down into Keighley I decided to explore the town if I had time on my way back but for now I walked up the hill for 15 minutes, past a large park, and saw from the neat castellated wall that I must be close to the castle. I’d checked the opening hours, and the fact that it had a cafe and housed a museum, but apart from that I didn’t know anything about the place. I headed for the cafe, housed in a large conservatory, and settled down to look around me.

From this vantage point on the hill the grounds of the ‘castle’ were laid out with lake and fountains, winding pathways, and on the other hillside across the valley were the barren moors. At one time a series of conservatories connected this building to the main house but some have been removed. A winged dragon tops a roof of the main house while a tall turret looms over the rest of the house in a most imposing manner.

I explored the conservatories, one having a really wonderful collection of cacti and succulents, beautifully arranged, and, as aa feature I always remark upon, there are boards and comments set up to delight children – another example of the way in which British children are ‘educated’ for free. For yes, entrance to this entire complex is free!

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In this case children (and adults!) are asked to find 6 hedgehogs that are hiding amongst the cacti. One of the glass houses now hosts a small collection of birds and rodents.

Then on to the main house. I was met by a helpful docent and given a map and off I went to explore. He suggested I start in a room containing a timeline. It also acted as the lunch room for visiting school parties, one of which had deposited their backpacks there as they went on tour.

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Cliffe Hall was built by Christopher Netherwood between 1828 and 1833, and designed by George Webster of Kendal a gothic revivalist. The Butterfields, a textile manufacturing family, bought Cliffe Hall in 1848. Henry Isaac Butterfield transformed the building by adding towers, a ballroom and conservatories from 1875 to 1880, and renamed it Cliffe Castle in 1878. He decorated the building with the griffin motif, which he had adopted as a heraldic crest. Cliffe Castle  was originally the home of Victorian millionaire and textile manufacturer, Henry Isaac Butterfield. Completed in the 1880s the building was funded by the Butterfield family’s industrial empire which included wool textile mills and a shipping business that took British goods to Europe, America and China.

The completed house was a showpiece of international art and French decoration. It was the scene of many glittering social events. Butterfield family connections included  the Roosevelt’s of America and members of the court of Napoleon III. By 1887, the Cliffe Castle Estate had around 300 acres. The son of Henry Isaac Butterfield (1819–1910) was Sir Frederick William Louis Butterfield (1858–1943). In 1916, Sir Frederick became Major of Keighley and held that title until 1918 when he hosted a visit to the town by King George V and Queen Mary on 29 May of that year.

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In the 1950s the Castle was bought by Sir Bracewell Smith, a local man who became Lord Mayor of London. Sir Bracewell used architect Sir Albert Richardson to turn Cliffe Castle’s gardens into a grand public park and remodelled the Castle to be a free museum for the people of the district.

The 4 living rooms contained a wealth of sumptuous statues, fabrics, furniture and painting, way beyond what I had anticipated. One room was designed as a music room with a Bluthner grand piano. When I left the house the helpful docent asked if I’d be interested in coming to a music performance there. I offered to give a performance and gave him my card!

Part of the house is a museum. In recent years Cliffe Castle has undergone a major restoration. Visitors can see sparkling Victorian rooms and furniture, paintings, and decorative art. Special galleries deal with natural history, archaeology and social history, all of which can be seen on your visit along with the internationally important display of stained glass by Morris and Co.

The Airedale Gallery explores the fascinating geology of the district from the birth of Earth through to the formation of the underlying rocks that define the district and on to the shaping of the landscape during the last Ice Age. The gallery explores the Carboniferous Coal Measures and Millstone Grit that are famous for fuelling the Industrial Revolution that led to the birth of industrial towns & cities like Keighley, Bradford & Leeds. Throughout the gallery the visitor can view a myriad of ancient fossils from the familiar ammonites and ichthyosaurs of the Jurassic to the internationally important holotype of the early tetrapod Pholiderpeton scutigerum. 

Another section explores the geology of rocks and minerals where visitors can learn how to identify different minerals and rocks or just enjoy the colourful beauty of what has been described by the former head of the Geology Museum as ‘…probably the best, as regards the range and quality of its minerals and its design, outside the major national museums’. There’s a natural history section too!

After a couple of hours I was overloaded with information and headed back to the cafe, had lunch and then explored the grounds which were just coming into their major Spring displays with crocuses and daffodils on the banks. Getting back into the town I did a bit of wandering, finding a street of Victorian buildings glistening a warm gold in the late afternoon sunshine. The street reminded me of Harrogate – not two town normally uttered in the same breath. I also saw an imposing building with Keighley Cycling Club etched in stone, and a large building, home to Keighley library, the first public library in England. Amazing!

Then last night on Radio 4 I suddenly heard ‘Keighley’ and it turned out to be a documentary about this man: Asa Briggs, Baron Briggs was an English historian. He was a leading specialist on the Victorian era, and the foremost historian of broadcasting in Britain. Briggs achieved international recognition during his long and prolific career for examining various aspects of modern British history. Apparently he was one of the leaders who tried to preserve the Victorian buildings of Keighley during the 1960s when towns were stripped of their beautiful old buildings in an attempt to ‘modernise.’

 

Last weekend I stayed in – the whole weekend. Having been prevented from returning to my apartment because of storm Ciara I was going to take no chances with storm Dennis. As it turned out Dennis was a bit of a damp squib in the Calder Valley. Being confined to barracks doesn’t suit me well so I planned a number of activities for the following weekend.

Friday night saw me setting off into Leeds to see Opera North’s version of Britten’s Turn of the Screw. I’d searched for recommendation for good food close to the Grand Theatre and came up with Zaap – Thai Street food. It’s ages since I’ve had a good Thai meal so I was looking forward to this. So of course the first question was ‘What shall I wear?’ In the U.S. I loved top dress up for the opera. As a music critic I was able to go to the opera a lot and I always made it feel special by wearing something fun. Many times Sarah would be my Plus One and we had a great evening together.

It’s a rather different kettle of fish when I have to walk through the park to the station, wait for a train, then walk to the venue – and then everything in retrograde, usually catching the last train home. By mid afternoon flooding was again threatening Hebden Bridge so this time I set off with minimal overnight supplies, those ‘bare necessities’ in case I got stranded in Leeds. I could see some flooding on the main road – cars ploughing through huge puddles. I really did contemplate wearing my wellies – yes, to the opera! And by the time I was halfway across the park up to my ankles on the flooded footpath I was wishing I had worn them. As I booked my ticket I asked the clerk if he could guarantee that there’d be a train back late in the evening. He ‘believed so.’

Zaap turned out to be a very popular venue. In fact there were 15 people waiting outside to get in at the door. It was packed. I gave myself til 6:20 to get a seat and then go elsewhere, but the line moved quickly and by 6:15 I had a table, right by the window, and so I had a perfect view of people being sprayed by passing cars or having their umbrellas blown inside out. The food arrived quickly and was delicious – and didn’t cost and arm and a leg. The Thai theme was all around me. Posters, writing, lanterns – and some people were eating in converted tuk-tuks. I really enjoyed myself.

Then off to find the theatre which was literally just around the corner, but I still nearly got blown over just getting there. I had an excellent seat. The orchestra were sitting below but in front of the stage which gave me a good view. The lighting and set design were excellent and the voice of the boy that played Miles was ethereal. But the lack of super-titles prevented me following the subtleties of the plot, and at the intermission I heard many people say the same thing. Even when an opera is sung in English it’s very difficult to decipher the words.

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At the end of the evening I took a cab back to the station and with less than one minute to spare jumped on the train and was back in my apartment exactly an hour after the show finished.

Saturday.

Another train to Leeds – this time early (well, early for me) on Saturday morning to a Meetup group event at the lovely Tiled Cafe in Leeds Art Gallery. This was a conversation meetup for introverts, where someone generated random conversation questions on an App. Seven people showed up and we spent two hours discussing about a dozen questions. Quite a novel way to spend a Saturday morning.

I’d passed The Light on my way to the gallery and decided to explore it on my way back to the station. I couldn’t tell from the outside if it was an office block or a shopping mall. It turned out to be a multi-use venue constructed of glass joining two older buildings. It houses restaurants, coffee bars, a great bagel place (a rarity in England ) and some medical offices! I grabbed a bagel and ate my lunch on the train going back to Hebden.

By 5 o’clock I was back on a train, this time going to Halifax where I was to meet a friend and go to the theatre. We had dinner in Salterhebble first and then drove over to Dean Clough mill, once the largest carpet factory in the world but which now houses restaurants, a theatre, art galleries, apartments and offices. It’s huge – almost like a town to itself. Although it’s fairly central in Halifax we were thrown into confusion by the road to it being closed to traffic. The Diversion sign said ‘Use Shroggs Road.’ That’s all very well if you know where Shroggs Road is! We didn’t but Google maps came to our rescue and we made it to the theatre with three minutes to spare.

The Viaduct Theatre is in the cellar of one of the factory buildings, with exposed stone walls, from which, even in the summer time, water slowly oozes. Blankets are provided for the audience. The play was Quality Street by J. M Barrie and I was fascinated to see this play that I’d never heard of being performed in Halifax, the home of Quality street toffees. A couple of years ago I’d taken a walking tour with David Glover to see the modest home of Mr and Mrs Mackintosh who invented the business. My great aunt, who had worked at Dean Clough factory always brought a tin of Quality Street toffees with her when we met at Christmas but I didn”t know that they were made in Halifax – and still are, right across from the station. Each character was dressed in an outfit the colour of one of the toffee flavours. There were some great hand puppets standing in for children and it was very funny.

Sunday

Someone in my chamber music group was chatting about things to do in Keighley and I mentioned that I wanted to see a cross stitch exhibition in Towneley Hall in Burnley. I’d figured out that it would be fairly easy to get to by public transport but then someone else joined the conversation suggested we go together by car. I’d been keeping my fingers crossed that bad weather wouldn’t prevent us from going and Sunday morning dawned sunny with blue sky, something I haven’t seen in weeks. But minutes later it was raining cats and dogs – and that was the order of the day.

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We set off at 12.30 and it only took 35 minutes , driving through Portsmouth, to the park in which the hall is situated. I’d vague memories of coming here with my mother-in-law and our children when we were on a holiday in England years ago. The hall dates from the 17th century and it is famous for its textile collection. The special exhibition I wanted to see was about cross stitch. I’ve been working on several cross stitch panels myself recently so I thought I might glean some new ideas from the show.

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The cross stitch panels were highly creative and some of the descriptions were somewhat disparaging about the more traditional designs of pretty landscapes and animals. I’ve done my fair share of those, the last one being kits that I’d purchased in Oban in 2018. But soon after I’d finished those I happened to see some cross stitch fabric for sale by the metre in Huddersfield market.

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I had the idea that I could paint my own design on the fabric and then stitch it. I tried this method but the paint bled too randomly, so then I drew my own design on graph paper and then made that. I’ve completed about 20 panels this way but I’m not yet sure how/if to combine them.

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Beside the living rooms of the hall, the formals dining room, kitchens, grand living room there were all sorts of random items that had been collected by enterprising Victorian explorers and donated to the hall – including taxidermy animals, my favourite being a cat, curled up and asleep, and an Egpytian mummy case. The wealthy owners of the hall often sponsored archaeological digs and were given items that had been discovered.

After a pause for tea and scones, in the quintessential tea room, I took a brisk walk around the parkland with its views towards Pendle Hill. When I got home I found the holiday journal report of my family’s previous visit to the hall – in 1996.

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The highlight of the evening was Episode one of the new series of Last Tango in Halifax. I was rather disappointed to see that the character played by Sarah Lancashire is no longer the headmistress of the same school as in the last series, because the school scenes were all filmed in my all high school – Bolton School.

Monday

Woke up to snow for the first time this year. By the looks of it there was a snow covering of several inches but it was now raining hard so I though the snow would have gone by the time I left at 10 ‘clock. But that was not to be and I found my way trudging through a very slippery mixture of snow and water. Even in the centre of Bradford there were great chunks of snow in the streets that had fallen from the roofs of buildings and bus shelters.

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I was heading for a Heritage Tour of St George’s Hall, and if I had not already booked and paid I probably wouldn’t have ventured out. As it was 8 people showed up for the 90 minute tour and it was definitely well worth braving the weather. our guide was excellent and she brought the history fo this, the first civic building to be built in Bradford to life. Conceived in 1849 by Samuel Smith who wanted to help provide a better life for the worsted textile workers who spend their Saturday evenings getting drunk in the town he raise 16,000 pounds to build a place of entertainment. The classes were still segregated, each class of person having their own entrances and staircases. The well dressed families arrives it coaches on the elaborate one way system and sat, of course, in the ‘dress’ circle. The lower classes weren’t even provided with a bathroom. Over the next 150 or so years the building saw many changes, including a 10 million pound restoration recently. The Halle orchestra was one of the early groups that performed, and still does. It stood derelict for many years, major stagnant sewage problems beneath the building, but then it was turned into a cinema with a couple of man going out into the streets of Bradford to record everyday life with the hopes that the people in those early movies would come to watch themselves on the big screen. Subsequently it became a major venue for rock bands on tour. A couple of people on our tour had seen Queen there, a docent had met David Bowie after his performance and another man had watched Keith Emerson run up to the organ at the back of the stage and play the Bach Toccata and Fugue. Sadly the organ hasn’t been working since 2009 and would cost an astronomical amount to return to playing condition. It was fun to see the signed posters of many famous people who have performed there – including Charles Dickens who read from A Christmas Carol – with no mic. Sir Charles Halle said that the hall had the best acoustics in the whole of Europe.

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I had lunch in cafe with its wonderful crazy roof before heading to Waterstones bookshop in ‘Little Germany.’ I needed to get back for my creative writing class. By the time I got back to Hebden Bridge all the snow had disappeared but the two possible venues for our class were both flooded so it had to be cancelled.