Arriving in Yorkshire, grey and rainy, the first photo is of Mytholmroyd, a completely unpronounceable name, known by me for the fact that Sylvia Plath is buried near at Heptonstall, well their festival was not going too well, just a sea of umbrellas. Then through Hebden Bridge, a bit like Glastonbury very hippy and incense shops, and finally we arrived at Edible Todmorden where my family live. The news was not particularly good, my son-in-law had just been taken to the hospital the day before with either a suspected heart attack or an embolism, but seems to be coping well.
On sunday we wandered round the town with the children through a lively market and down by the river. My daughter runs two charity shops for discarded greyhounds, the shelter has about 100 of them but the person who runs the charity, is thinking of moving to Doncaster create a bigger shelter, with other animals, including shire horses and a restaurant.
LS is busily working in the bathroom, so I feel rather redundant, we should be going out later today to look at houses, this is our plan to eventually arrive at a place to settle, if it will work out I don't know........
|This is Todmorden's Council|
building, to the left is the River Calder, I think, but the centre of the building defines the boundary line between Lancashire and Yorkshire
|Just happen to like the way the geese took off.|