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When the devastating floods hit Hebden Bridge and the other Calder Valley towns on Boxing Day 2015 many people’s Christmas was washed away – literally. So today the town celebrated Christmas. There were brass bands, choirs singing carols, the shops had Christmas displays in their windows. Jugglers, angels on stilts were scattered through the town and several band stages were set up. One of my favorite was a young lad playing a ukelele. He appeared to be about 13. he writes and sings his own songs and has 2 CDs out – such poise. The town was packed. Lines for ice-cream snaked around the bouncy castles, a climbing wall echoed the outlines of the factory chimneys beyond and folks wearing their best Christmas jumpers stood patiently in line at the fish and chip shop.

I began the day at the outdoor market where I saw black pudding pies – apparently they’re  ‘good sellers’ and then I went on to try Vimto flavored fudge – ugh- and gingerbread fudge which has chunks of gingerbread biscuits in. A pudding lady was giving out samples of delicious Christmas pudding and the RSPB was giving away hedgehogs to anyone becoming a member.

I made a house out of clay which will go on display in the Town hall later this year. I cut out a washing line full of trousers  from music manuscript paper to add to a collage celebrating trouser town. I watched children playing with old-time toys, people adding their homes on a giant map (for a blue plaque ceremony) and helped to colour in a giant drawing of the town. I drew myself on it and labeled it ‘Crazy Californian lady!’ I was photographed and  interviewed by the festival event people.

In the evening I attended a sort of drama  production where 5 people of varying ages told of their associations with trouser town.I was joined at my table by three delightful ladies who had grown up in the area and were happy to tell me takes of their working lives. I ended up

talking at length to the owners of the original mill building. It’s been a labor of love for 40 years, saving the mill, with its medieval origins, from demolition. David and Hilary Fletcher told me a great story about their adventures in the Tenderloin of San Francisco

and their visit to Monterey. They’ve also traveled extensively through South and central America, and through the former Soviet block countries. They apologized that they couldn’t invite me to their home but they’re leaving for another trip on Monday!

I woke up to the stunning news that England had voted, by a very close vote, to leave the EU – and Prime Minister David Cameron had resigned. I was very surprised. I didn’t think that England would vote for change. A laissez faire attitude is what I often associate with the Brits. Although it made big news in the media I saw little sign of the result during the day. It certainly wasn’t the main topic of conversation with the people that I’ve met in the past few days. When pressed most of the conversation appears to focus on the ‘terrible’ twins of Boris Johnson and Donald Trump. For further comments see: http://waterfordwhispersnews.com/2016/06/24/thousands-of-british-refugees-make-dangerous-journey-across-the-irish-sea/

I met up with Gary at Halifax station at 10 a.m. I thought about not bringing a raincoat, but despite the blue sky there was rain in the forecast so I decided to take it along. I’d told Gary that i’d be interesting in getting close to the Wainhouse tower so he’d planned a route to take in this obelisk that can see from all over the area. I didn’t know if were were going to be out for an hour or so, or much longer, but the wonderful thing was that it didn’t matter either way. I had no commitments for the rest of the day. As it turned out we parted at 6:30 having seen so many historical things of the old Halifax that I would have certainly missed had I been looking around by myself. Gary even brought his thesis along for me to borrow: Community Leisure in Halifax between  1850 and 1918, and chapter 4 is devoted to brass bands!

First up were a couple of things that I’d planned – going to find Bath Street where one of my ancestors had lived. It’s adjacent to the station but the houses on it were demolished when the land was bought by the railway. The baths after which it was named were an elegant affair with formal gardens, modeled on Roman baths, a place to be seen, not the slipper baths which were a necessary function of everyday life without bathrooms in homes. Then a quick trip to the cathedral to purchase my ticket to the Black Dyke Mills concert there, and then a rather frustrating trip to the EE shop where, despite excellent help from the assistant I wasn’t able to find out why I’d used up 15 pounds of data in 3 days. But I did get 1 free GB and 200 free minutes out of them.

Out of Darkness

We passed a letter box painted gold because someone from Halifax had won a gold medal in the paralympic games. Then past the Percy Shaw pub dedicated  to the Halifax man who had invented cats’ eyes for the road. We pottered around in back streets and forsaken driveways leading the Dean Clough Mills where we spent an hour taking in the different

uses for this old mill. The mill is in fact  a group of large factory buildings built in the 1840s–60s for Crossley’s Carpets,  becoming one of the world’s largest carpet factories. Part of it is an art gallery (free) a theater, a high end cookery school, general offices, hair dressers, high end tapas houses etc., etc. The concept is somewhat similar to that of Saltaire. The display Out of Darkness by Jenny Kagan, an interactive exhibition about the personal  struggle for survival as a German Jew was brilliant. It was housed in the cave-like basement of the mill and used the broken pipes and uneven walls and floors as part of the exhibit – with dramatic lighting effects. There was a huge model of the mill complex too, all made out of lego.

We had lunch in Wetherspoon, Percy Shaw (cats’ eyes man) with a view towards the bus station and next was a glimpse into the old market hall, so similar to the one in Bolton that is currently undergoing complete reconstruction, just keeping the outer shell. Then

Halifax Market Hall

the rain came down – heavily. By now it was 2:30 and we hadn’t even got to the Wainwright Tower. But no matter. We took shelter in a bank – a wonderful piece of architecture. I remember when I went to the bank on occasion with my dad there was a feeling of reverence and hushed voices. This Lloyds bank had stained glass windows, a beautiful painted ceiling and I was given permission to take photos as long as I pointed my camera upwards.

We jumped onto a zippy bus to take us up the hill to the Wainhouse Tower which stands atop a hill high with wonderful views of Sowerby Bridge in the valley and the green moorlands above.At 275 feet, it is the tallest structure in Calderdale and the tallest folly in the world, and was erected in the four years between 1871 and 1875. The  driving force

Workers cottages below  Wainhouse Tower

behind the erection of the viewing platforms was a long-standing feud between landowning neighbours John Edward Wainhouse (1817–1883) and Sir Henry Edwards (1812–1886). Edwards had boasted that he had the most private estate in Halifax, into which no one could see. As the estate was on land adjacent to the chimney’s site, following the opening of the viewing platforms, Edwards could never claim privacy again. Wainhouse was kind to his employees building them housing and providing a fresh water supply that then was channeled down the hill to his mill. All his buildings had JEW on them, his initials. The roads were very steep and many of them remain cobbled – easier to negotiate in frosty weather. Gary pointed out that each third row of cobbles is slightly raised to help prevent slips. He knows this area well since his grandmother used to live here and he went to Sunday school in a building that’s now been converted to apartments. He showed me where he used to play as a child and run to the shops for his grandma.

The Big 6 provided us with refreshment. This is very much a locals pub. In fact, it’s located in the middle of a terrace. Just across a busy road is the school he attended at Savile park,

The mid-terrace pub

the location of the Halifax fair.   The lady sitting next to us in the pub was from Ecuador and she teaches Spanish at the school She told us that it was second choice to being

Hogwart’s School in the Harry Potter movies. We walked back down to the center of town, again along some steep cobbled road, arriving back at the station at 6:30.

I settled in for an evening sorting out photos of the day and finding out more about the things I’d seen today.

I don’t think I’ve ever been to Brighouse before, though I’m very familiar with its name being one half of the prize-winning Brighouse and Rastrick brass band. I could get a through train to the town and then it was just a 15 minute walk to Wellborn park where the walk, put on by the Calderdale council was to start from. I arrived with lunch, water bottle, sun hat, raincoat, hiking boots, but was very surprised when I realized I needed sun tan lotion too! Luckily there was a tube at the bottom of my rucksack.

There were 16 of us on the hike which was took in part of the 22 mile circular walk around the town which was devised years ago by Peter, one of today’s hikers. We were only hiking 7 1/2 miles. There were some very steep tracks, narrow passageways with nettles up to our ears. I enjoyed the company of several of the hikers, one of whom, Don, was a wealth of knowledge on old Halifax. In the 1950’s he’d gone around taking photos of ancient buildings that were about to be demolished. Straight off the bat he mentioned Gaol Lane, where George Gledhill had lived but which has been demolished. Don remembers one up, one down houses there in which a family of six would live. He knew of Bath Street, where members of my family lived and gave me some ideas of where to find out more information about the baths after which it was named. Lunch was taken sitting on the

grass. We passed the gatehouse to Titus Salt’s estate, the mill owner who brought alpaca into the woollen trade, thus causing my great great grandfather’s death. the mansion itself was demolished due to dry rot, and is now a golf course. In Salt’s  day the estate was 700 acres. Another fascinating feature were the  2 walls built of incredibly large stones which were quarried there by Marshall’s. I felt as if I was in an Inca temple. There were remnants of the rails that were used to transport the stones. You could see the drilling marks where the powder was put to detonate the explosives to separate the blocks of stone. Later I found that the pathway is supposedly haunted.

When the walk was over interestingly the people who chose to go to get a drink at the local hostelry were the women – hmmm. They chose a Methodist church which has been converted by Wetherspoons into a large pub! The organ and gallery are still intact – quite stunning, in fact.

A trip to the Co-op for food supplies ended the day relatively early for me. I have another hike planned for tomorrow.

The day began with a series of frustrations. My phone SIM card was out of data even though I had topped it up only 2 days ago. I tried to book a ticket for Black Dyke Mills band’s performance in Halifax Minster but was told that I’d have to come to the minster to purchase a ticket, even though their website said that tickets were available by phone. My pin number for my Lloyd’s bank card has still not arrived, even though 10 days ago the bank told me it would arrive in 5 days. Still, looking on the positive side, I’ve been here for 9 days  without reality kicking in 🙂

A half hour rain journey brought me to  Bradford. I remember my mother-in-law really liking Bradford and its museums. I was there to see an organ recital at the cathedral. In the railway station 4 displays stood side-by-side featuring Bradford’s best-known sons and daughters: David Hockney, the Brontës, Titus Salt and Black Dyke Mills band. I hadn’t reckoned on the piped music in the station bathroom being brass band music!

I asked two passers-by which direction was the cathedral but neither knew – interesting. I followed my nose and found it. I doesn’t have the dominating effect that most cathedrals hold in a city center. I knew there was a buffet for 3 pounds that preceded the weekly recital but I hadn’t expect it to be so extravagant.

The young organist , 27, was Richard Brasier,  a graduate of the Royal Academy of Music in London. He has a wide reputation for producing “brilliant”, “inspiring” and “top notch” performances, and is quickly establishing himself as “one of the most dynamic young organists of his generation.” And he was amazing. He played 20th century music – Vierne, Rousseau and Durufle. Martin Waters was just putting the finishing touches to his art installation: ‘Fallen’ a poppy installation commemorating the centenary of the Bradford  Pals’ Battle of the Somme using thousands of British Legion poppies. ‘As I walked through this beautiful building the words of the old memorials echo in my thoughts, solemn and sad yet heroic and commemorated, lost but still loved.’ A table was filled with What’s on brochures. One invited anyone interested to work on a tapestry that will go on display in the cathedral. I hope I can do that. Across the street was Kalasangam, a gallery of South Asian intercultural arts. A particularly liked this interactive dance display: Can you spot me?

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I called at the Tourist information center and asked what they would recommend I see during the next hour. I helpful man directed me to the fountains (directly outside the magistrates’ court) where I spent a half hour watching the frolicking. I also checked out a large shopping mall in the city center.

In the evening the special light was bringing its warmth to the canal so I took a stroll for half an hour, timing my dinner perfectly for the Ireland v Italy UEFA soccer game. Chris got very excited during the game despite claiming she never watches it.

Today I boarded the wrong train! Luckily it wasn’t a non-stop to London, and the ticket collector (yes, they still have them) discovered my error in time for me to change trains at the next station. This just happened to be Mytholmroyd, one time home of Ted Hughes, Britain’s poet laureate and husband of Sylvia Plath. With the 40 minutes I had to wait for the next train I explored the little place that was heavily affected by the floods last Christmas. Sand bags still line the street – and ironically  the shop behind them is called White Sands travel agency. I also passed the clog factory, still in operation. I have my great aunt’s clogs displayed on my wall at home. (Click on images for captions)

Arriving in Halifax I made a bee-line for Marks and Sparks to find a take-out lunch so that I could sit in the ‘Woolshops’ and people watch, drinking my elderflower juice. Then to the library to try to find old maps with streets that my relatives lived on – Gaol, Haigh Streets. There were some great books of old maps and old paintings of Halifax at the height of the industrial revolution. The tourist information center provided me with an A-Z of street names with maps (free). I mentioned that I’d like to see All souls Church, Haley Hill but I understood that it closed down many years ago. They told me it opened on Christmas Day, and maybe Easter Sunday, but they thought that maybe Jackie has a key. Hmmm. Oh, yes. Here’s Jackie’s phone number. I gave her a call, explaining my quest. ‘Where are you now?’ she

All Saints church, Haley Hill

asked. ‘In the library,’ I told her. ‘Ok,’ came the response, ‘I’ll meet you outside in 2 minutes.’ And two minutes later I found myself in a car with Jackie and her husband. He dropped us off outside the church, a five minutes drive, she took out her key, and there we were, inside this amazing church with the tallest spire in Halifax. It was built with money given by Edward Ackroyd, a mill owner, who also built cottages and a hospital for his

Vandalism

workers. The church was very ornate, and even had a grotesque in Ackroyd’s likeness. It closed in 1979 and is now owned by the Churches Conservation trust who own All Souls in Bolton.  Jackie took me to the cemetery but it is VERY large and overgrown. It’s the resting place of James Hainsworth Leeming, who married my great great grandmother, Elizabeth Ann,  after her husband, Ishmael Nutton had died from alpaca poisoning. He had been a lodger with them before Ishmael’s death and was 12 years her junior. Then she showed me Ackroyd’s house, now the Bankfield museum (closed on Mondays) and was even happy to go with me in search of Ackroyd Court, the high rise apartment where my grandma’s sister Lily lived. I remember visiting her there when I was a little girl and seem to have some recollection of the church spire outside her window.

Back in Hebden Bridge I saw a flier at the station announcing a vigil in the Square for the murdered MP Jo Cox. Back a’th’ mill I mentioned it to Chris and she went too. A very moving tribute. The local chippy provided supper and I was fortunate because they were taking last orders as I arrived – at 6:30!!

Vigil for Jo Cox

I watched England draw 0-0 with Slovakia. That’s pretty much the first time I have done something not connected with my ‘study abroad’ since I got here. The down time was very much appreciated – though a winning goal may have made it a little sweeter.

It was after midnight by the time I’d finished writing my journal and organizing the day’s photos, so I was surprised that I woke up at 6:30a.m. I was even more surprised that I actually considered getting up and seeing what the light was like on the canal. Unfortunately there’s no window in my room so I have to get up to check on the weather each day.

Right out of Brassed Off – literally

I’d decided last night to go to a church service in Sowerby Bridge today so by 9:30 I was crossing the park to the station. I found the ‘proper’ way to the center of town from the station. There’s a little tiny footpath that climbs up to the church from the station and I could hear the simulated church bells ‘call the faithful to their prayer.’ Just as I was crossing the road outside Christ Church I bumped into two people I had met on Tuesday and I sat with them. In her introductory remarks the pastor, Angela Dick welcomed me by name, saying that I was visiting from America.  It was lovely to hear the organ that I’d played last year being played well and I found that some of the hymns that I recognized from from my high school made me tear up – with nostalgia, I guess. There were about 40 people in the congregation. At the meet and greet one lady asked if I knew Santa Clara. She’s been there 5 times to visit her sister. At the after service tea I was pounced upon, ‘Are you the person tracing your ancestry? What names do you have in your family?’ We both have Barracloughs, but that’s a VERY common name here. She promised to bring her research to the Tuesday coffee morning in case I attend.

I had to run all the way back to the station. Trains are only one per hour on Sundays. As I crossed the park I heard brass band music and came across a band obviously rehearsing, for today is the big band competition – it felt just like a scene from Brassed Off. A quick , very quick lunch at a’ th’ mill and just time to take in a couple of other bands as they marched to the Square and played their set pieces. Each band comprised people of all ages.

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I left my mill and almost bumped into a trumpet  holding, ice-cream eating gentleman who’d obviously just played in the competition. ‘You look as if you’ve just come from Brassed Off!’ I quipped. ‘I was in the movie!’ he responded.  But unfortunately I had no time for a conversation.

Elland Junior Band

Running, again, back to the station I was just in time to register for the guided walk in the

footsteps of Lavena Saltonstall, visiting the homes of Hebden Bridge suffragettes, the clothing factories where they worked. Ending in George Square where Emmeline

3 hour guided walk in the pouring rain

Pankhurst addressed vast crowds in 1907.  Jill Liddington from Calderdale Heritage Walks who had a background in women’s history of the area and has written several books was our leader. She wasn’t very charismatic, but she had lots of information. About halfway through the 3 hour walk the rain came down in earnest, and yes, my new birthday present is truly waterproof. The trails were steep, slippery on the mossy cobblestones but most people took it in their stride. We ended with tea at the White Lion – so civilized and a chance for everyone to chat and ask questions of Jill.

Author and researcher Jill Liddington was our guide. Heptonstall church just visible on the hilltop

As I left I called in at the Shoulder of Mutton to ask about the quiz night advertised for tonight and experienced my first disappointment of the trip – quiz night had been cancelled since the floods.

Sitting in the Old Gate, exactly in the same place I’d sat one week ago on my first evening in England I though I’d try to assess how it feels to have been here for a week. Perhaps, as Brian suggests, I’m living on pure adrenalin. It’s hard fall asleep at night  because I’m thinking about what the next day will bring. Most evenings I put on an episode of Desert

A wet urban hike – hey, he looks like Chris!

Island Discs and fall asleep to that famous Radio show which, by the way, is still going. What’s happening to me? One thing’s for sure: I can’t keep up this pace. Take today for example. Out at 9:20, back 1:00-1:30, out again til 5:00 then back out again at 7:00 for dinner. And that’s the way it’s been every day. Last night was the first night I have stayed in for the evening, and I ended up still being awake after midnight sorting the day’s photos, writing my blog, making imovies of my photos and researching train times for today’s trip to Sowerby Bridge church service. Timing coincidences abound and fortuotous meetings with random people are just crazy. The people I’ve hiked with have more to say than mere chit-chat. Is this just the Yorkshire spirit or does it apply all over England, or is this a specific quality of Up North?