Off to Haworth yesterday, one of my favourite places in Yorkshire. Decided to drive as we had to change buses and it was a bit of a pain. Set the satnav and prayed, though I had checked the route beforehand in my trusty map book, and off we went. Got there no problem and was able to park right next to the Parsonage Museum thus obviating the need for The Hill. We had arrived nice and early and so were through the door before the hordes descended (by the time we left at 1pm the place was getting pretty full) and were able to wander round and read and note at leisure.
I never tire of visiting Haworth. My first visit was about fifty years ago and I have been back many times in between. I was a member of the Bronte Society in the dim and distant and attended a meeting or two (the Yorkshire tea served up remains in my memory) but the members seemed, without exception, to be very odd. In fact, some of them seemed to be bonkers. One woman kept me pinned to the wall for about fifteen minutes while she told me she was the reincarnation of Emily and I had some difficulty getting away. Others were of a similar ilk. If any current members of the Bronte Society are reading these, then my apologies, that was my experience at the time. I did pick up a membership pack from the Parsonage today so may rejoin. I am pondering on it.
Anyway here are some photographs taken on this visit. First up, the living room and the table around which the sisters Emily, Anne and Charlotte used to pace in the evenings, reading and discussing their work:
Then the street. I decided to be brave, bearing in mind my dodgy knee, to walk down it. Of course that means I have to walk back up but decided I was game for it. And I did it. And the knee ok. Halfway up or down whichever way you look at it, is a wonderful second hand bookshop which I had my beady eye on. It was closed. Cue much lamentation. As I have already bought seven books this week I suppose it was just as well.
Here is the sign outside the Parsonage. When I first visited Haworth all those years ago I stayed with a Mrs Scarborough and her husband was the local blacksmith and he made this sign. It is still there.
Of course you cannot leave the Parsonage without going through the obligatory shop, but they do have some classy stuff there amid the usual pencil sharpeners and fridge magnets. I came away with three books, one for me and two for grandchildren, a note book which I do not need but I love notebooks, a bag which I do not need but I love bags and a bookmark which I always need. This is why I always drive to places nowadays, no matter how far, as I always get loaded with stuff and could never get it home otherwise.
Incidentally, the Parsonage has the portrait of the Three Sisters painted by Branwell on loan from the National Portrait Gallery which is great as you can get really close to look at it – at the National it is fairly high up on the wall.
Oh and I purchased a bijou snackette from the Villette tea shop – I kid you not that was its name. (There used to be a Bronte Balti but that seems to have gone now)
Getting back to Skipton was a leetle complicated in that I turned left when I should have turned right and the satnav then started giving me a route which felt as if I was being sent to Newcastle. Not too bothered as we were driving through the most glorious countryside with wonderful views of the Dales (oh I could live here quite easily) but when we got to a turn signposted Keighley which was the direction we wanted to go and we were told to go the other way, I rebelled and ignored the bossy woman and off we went. Went through Oakworth where the wonderful scene at the end of the Railway Children was filmed ('Daddy Oh my Daddy' who could forget) and through Keighley and then I knew where I was and all was well.
The drive to Yorkshire is always a pain but I so love it when I get here that I tend to forget until the following year when I do it again and wonder why …….
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