Today my daughter goes to London for a few days to see her two children and friends along the way. Though Matilda's flatmate has just shown positive, so it leaves Matilda somewhat suspect. Lillie is off on a camping trip for two weeks next Wednesday and I shall be alone for a day or two. The family test all the time, I have never done it, the thought of sticking pods up one's nose somehow does not appeal!
Karen my daughter found the following article from the Guardian, it was on Todmorden a travel write up enthusing over the joys of walking round here. This is Yorkshire Pudding's walking hobby, for the hills are steep as you climb out of the valley.
Todmorden according to my daughter is the up and coming place to live, as Hebden Bridge is colonised by all the bright and beautiful hippy types!! so they are all moving out into the villages. Karen reckons there is an influx of journalists as well, all to do with of course the flooding, which brought them down here in floods;)
You too could live in a town that floods almost yearly now and experience the joys of flooded cellars. The flood does not come top down but belly up so to speak. This Victorian house has a pump down in the cellars, and there is nothing down there, completely dark and empty. Though the worrying thing is the electricity meter, luckily high up on the wall.
It used to be damp, but Ian the handyman solved that problem by hacking all the concrete off the walls and painting it in a lime wash, going back to its Victorian stage.
A terrifying tale told by Karen, after one such flood and realising the pump was not working, she waded waist deep, fished the plug out of the water and plugged it in................ she is still alive.
So one day I may take to the hills, but I shall catch the bus first to get me to the top, but do you think I have found my niche in life living amongst Guardian reading, sandal wearing (they don't) pasta knitting, (as if) The word on the streets is 'Kindness' though.
I got the vibes that once yu were on your own you would rather like to go to Todmorden - glad you are settling in well.
ReplyDeleteWell I take pleasure in the small things. Here, there are jackdaws in the front, I watch them hiding under the overhang on the building over the road as the rain beats down. I can hear the Canadian geese on the river in the morning at the back. They sound like a farmhouse chorus of chickens, just like I used to hear in Normanby early morning as the cocks crowed. And of course I can see all my families dramas...
DeleteGlad it seems to suit you there. I would struggle I think. I like being close to the town (close enough to walk in should I chose) and yet have a bridleway on my doorstep (in fact, the first couple of hundred yards are on our deeds!). Kindness is laid thick here too - such LOVELY people.
ReplyDeleteWell time has slowly crept up for me Jennie, long walks are out of the question. I follow 'Max in the Lake District' most mornings for my dog walk. We live in a beautiful country, your photos of Wales are always uplifting as well, and perhaps the imagination can fill in the sound of running water, or a relentless wind when out.
DeleteI used to rock climb near Todmorden a lot - there is lovely book by David Craig called Millstone Grit which is the story of him walking the area ( I think with his son, but it's years since I read it) - beautifully written though. Just over the hills in Rawtenstall is Britain's last remaining temperance bar Fitzpatrick's
ReplyDeleteJust looked up Fitzpatrick's, it is in Lancashire (over the border). Always there is a history lurking on the doorstep to be examined and wondered over. At the moment I am fascinated by the Unitarian church and its model of religion that was established in Tod. Will look out for the book at the library but I am not a 'bona-fida' person because I can't produce a paid utilitarian bill. So runs the world of bureaucracy.
ReplyDeleteI like the word on your streets!
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