Tag Archives: Haworth
Supermodel, with Balls
It was raining. Hard. Long-unused umbrellas opened like reluctant flowers, showering hurrying heads with dust and desiccated spiders. My new friends had driven me into Haworth for the evening from the refurbished cotton mill where I was staying. Nestled between … Continue reading
Catching no worms
I’m not an early bird, I said, as I bid a fond farewell to three women, strangers to me before last Friday. They were planning an early walk, today, before leaving the place we’re all staying. It wasn’t just the … Continue reading
Soundscapes [The Great Escape, days 3 &4]
Tired legs. A little light rain. Wimbledon on the BBC. Day three becomes a day of rest. I’m finding something deep and reassuring in Haworth on this visit. As if the town is built on a well of feelings. And … Continue reading
Weathering Heights [The Great Escape, day 2]
‘Don’t trust anyone who tells you they know a short-cut!’ So says one young woman as a group of them emerge from the deep shade of many trees on a steeply sloping hillside. We take no short cuts. But still … Continue reading
Worn. [The Great Escape, day 1]
A sunny Sunday in Haworth. No traffic. No urban buzz. Just gentle tourists bumbling around, collecting pollen (in cake form) from the cafes and the bakery. Some, wearing Joni Mitchell’s ‘passport smiles’, hail from foreign countries. They’ve done the Parsonage … Continue reading
“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
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 