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Category Archives: Yorkshire
“Cold in the earth – and fifteen wild Decembers”
The Yorkshire moors are cold, this time of year – cold and dramatic. But when the sun shines and the frost bites, when flecks of snow fly, gentle, on a breath of wind – then, they are soaringly beautiful. Is … Continue reading
Temples, ruins and too much information
Monasteries, abbeys, priories – they never look so good as when they’re ruined, don’t you think? I spent many a childhood holiday trotting behind a father who was batty about architecture. Grand houses decked out in precious furniture and china … Continue reading
In which we don’t travel on the Hogwarts express
‘I can’t see any smoke.’ ‘But I just heard a whistle.’ ‘Yes, but there’s no smoke.’ And there’s a very good reason why we can’t see any smoke. One weekend a year – yes, just ONE weekend a year, this … Continue reading
Fish and kiss
Have you heard of the Wars of the Roses? Hmm. I think you’ll need the gist of this bit of British history if you’re to understand what follows – which is actually, I’ll be honest, more about chips (the British … Continue reading
Posted in Yorkshire
Tagged Battle of Bosworth, chips and fish, first kiss, fish and chips, Henry Tudor, Lancashire, red rose, Richard of York, Wars of the Roses, white rose, Yorkshire
18 Comments
Help! Nuclear meltdown! We’re all going to die!
Two rows of women sit either side of a small conveyor belt. I say women, but I don’t think of myself as ‘woman’ yet. I’m eighteen and a half. On each desk is a grey telephone console with a row … Continue reading
Posted in Yorkshire
Tagged apple pie, Bradford, Ferrybridge power station, Henley, labradors, lager and lime, Laura Ashley, Martini, North Eastern Gas Board, pie and peas, Yorkshire
6 Comments
I wanna hold your hand (but you wouldn’t want to hold mine)
I’m out, driving, on chore-related business. The radio, as usual, is on. Tuned – also as usual – to BBC radio middle-middle-class. No, not the classical one. No, not the middle-of-the-road music one. The talking one. Crikey, even radio’s becoming … Continue reading
Posted in Yorkshire
Tagged eczema, friendship, hands, holding hands, kindness of strangers, memoirs
8 Comments
From tainted tongue and temporary aunt to blood and custard creams
It was a biscuit that did it. Reminded me, of my ‘gap’ year, Yorkshire style. Anachronistic to call it a ‘gap’ year, really, the term hadn’t yet been coined. Most folks going to university went straight there – unless they … Continue reading
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