Kirkcaldy Cat Trail

The concept has been around for a while. A series of artworks dotted around a town or city, inviting the public to explore. When I heard that 17 giant cats were to be installed in the Kirkcaldy area, I instantly vowed to seek them out. Several reasons apply. The design was to be based on the famous Wemyss Ware painted pottery, produced in Fife since 1882. Following the circuit would be a fascinating experience in itself. Who doesn't love a good list ticking exercise? Lastly, I have been a cat lover all my days.

As I work in Kirkcaldy five days a week, I would inevitably run into some of the sculptures while simply going about my business. I had two proper cracks at the trail: one with Nicole and a second run with my mum as co-pilot. Between these expeditions we found all the kitties, bar the Thistle Cat at the Wemyss Pottery headquarters in Ceres, some distance from Kirkcaldy, and Sweetie the mobile moggy. More about her later. A map was published in paper and digital formats. While studying the trail layout, I realised there has to be some thought behind the process. The statues aren't just randomly plonked down anywhere. Some need to be in busy locations for the masses to see. But the concept of a trail also requires a few outlying points, encouraging people to explore. Placing the sculptures on or near public transport routes makes the project more accessible. A dozen cats were inside the boundaries of Kirkcaldy itself, with half of them clustered around the centre, the others being spaced across the Lang Toun, including Cabbage Rose Cat (Mum's favourite, pictured above) outside Morrison's supermarket at the far end of the mile-long promenade. Around the halfway point stood Kirkcaldy Lynx on Volunteer's Green, one of the town's oldest public spaces, dating back to 1644 when King Charles I granted the land to the Royal Burgh for recreation and community use. Up on the High Street, Fun Guy guarded the entrance to the Mercat Shopping Centre - once a hive of activity but nowadays sparsely populated with customers. The last time I visited, several leaks dripped from the roof into buckets and I drew the conclusion that the investment well is running dry. It's an issue affecting many town centres across the country. Social habits have shifted and traditional retail is in economic decline. On the other hand, people will always seek out places to meet and the recently formed Merchants Quarter at the bottom end of the High Street is the type of initiative that gives hope, focussing on local independent businesses. A lovely café is situated on the ground floor of the 16th-century A-listed Merchant's House, looking across to the sea. A Queer-like Cat was located near the permanent Kirkcaldy Heart sculpture at the eastern extremity of the prom. An added bonus was bumping into Mum's Auntie Molly, still going strong at the age of 97! Molly is our oldest relative and her daughter Alison was also present, along with Alison's husband Tom. Some old family chat ensued.

The Burgh of Kirkcaldy had its own elected council until 1975, when local government across Scotland was re-organised.

Barton Upon Humber

Following a week in Norfolk, we spent five night by the River Humber in the Lincolnshire town of Barton. The estuary is spanned here by the mighty Humber Bridge, completed in 1981. Across the water lies Hull - a major maritime city in Yorkshire. We had booked a caravan stay by a lake, within the grounds of a private property on the fringes of Waters' Edge Country Park - a wildlife oasis featuring wetlands, woodlands, and wildflower meadows on land formerly dominated by industry. Our abode for the next few days was a large touring-style caravan. Table and seating at one end, double bed at the other. Cooking facilities and shower in between. The attached awning offered extra storage space.

What about the toilet facilities? The tiny bathroom had a chemical loo that emptied into a removable cassette, accessed from outside - a duty performed daily by our host Barry. It was fine for a piddle but we made use of the local Tesco for more hefty deposits. The van wasn't plumbed in, but drinking and waste water containers were monitored by Barry and his wife. They were a friendly couple who kept poultry and rescue geese/ducks. There was also a group of Guinea fowl who scuttled around together making a curious high-pitched call. Wild Canada geese often wandered by. There was a bucket of feed by the caravan and we were encouraged to use it, which invariably meant you were quickly surrounded by new-found friends. Sometimes a beak even poked into the awning if the zipper wasn't fully pulled down. A very quiet location but just a few minutes drive from town. Our first destination was Spurn Point on the Yorkshire side. This three-mile sand and shingle spit sticks out beyond the Humber Estuary and into the North Sea. The area is environmentally sensitive, constantly shifting shape and battling erosion. A military railway and heavy fortifications were constructed during both World Wars but no fighting occurred here. We bought a bridge pass online that was valid for 10 crossings, verified by number plate recognition cameras. After skirting Hull, we passed through a succession of rural villages before reaching the narrow curving peninsula. The Humber is a key shipping lane and ferries depart for the continent. A large amount of wildlife is supported and the vast mud flats provide rich feeding grounds for wading birds. Eelgrass is one of the few plants capable of flowering in the sea and this habitat is vital for shellfish. The Yorkshire Wildlife Trust helps care for Spurn Point and the £5 parking charge at the Discovery Centre is re-invested in conservation. We purchased drinks at the café and browsed the exhibition. There were a couple of bird hides nearby and we ate our packed lunch while viewing the wading pools. We followed a path to a viewpoint that looked out towards the sea. The tide was well in the distance and large expanses of grassland and sand were exposed. It was a blustery in this exposed position and we soon returned to the interior of the peninsula. The road running out towards the lighthouse at the end of Spurn Point was breached by a tidal surge in 2013 and vehicular access now ceases abruptly at the Discovery Centre. You can continue on foot or by bike but tide times must be checked as the incoming water now creates a temporary island.

We wandered a little bit beyond the road gates before turning back inland and driving a mile and a half to Kilnsea Wetlands. Developed by the Environment Agency, the reserve provides wading birds a place to roost and feed, when leaving the Humber mudflats at high tide in autumn and winter. Offering freshwater and saline pools with islands, wet grassland and seasonal scrapes, Kilnsea has great potential to attract more species as these habitats develop, perhaps encouraging birds like oystercatchers, ringed plovers and lapwings to breed. Local livestock is employed to manage vegetation levels, with the aim of attracting more farmland species such as corn bunting. A large wooden hide overlooked one of the ponds and a local birder furnished us with some useful spotting tips. It was a good first day of our holiday, seeing a new part pf the British coastline and spending time in nature. The next day involved a train trip to York. The ancient walled city has both Roman and Viking origins. Our last visit together had been around 20 years previously and it would be nice to see the historic sights again. Barton has a railway station but it’s a branch terminus that feeds into the Lincolnshire network. The easiest way to reach York was to drive over the Humber Bridge and pick up an express service from Hull at the commuter town of Brough. We had sourced a cheap return deal online and were in York for 10am. The grand Victorian station is situated just outside the city walls and has long been a principal stop on the East Coast Main Line. Additional routes fan out across England’s biggest historic county, and the transport facility was the biggest in the world when it opened in 1877. We walked towards York Minster – the city’s most famous landmark, passing a row of cherry blossom trees and a memorial to the 1832 cholera outbreak. We crossed the River Ouse on Lendal Bridge, right by a medieval tower of the same name. Built circa 1300, the fortification originally formed part of the city’s defence chain. The tower later functioned as a waterworks and now offers luxury holiday accommodation. The Minster is the base of the Archbishop of York – the second highest office within the Church of England. Construction of the present cathedral was completed in 1472. A serious fire occurred in 1984, believed to have been started by a lightning strike. The emergency services deliberately forced the collapse of the south transept to prevent the remainder of the building from destruction. The repair process took four years and cost over £6 million in today’s terms. General admission tickets are £20, and we decided to view the exterior architecture only. A statue of Queen Elizabeth II was embedded within the lower level stonework in 2002.

We wandered through Dean's Park to the rear of the Minster. The Grade-1 listed Treasurer's House is located in this area. Now owned by the National Trust, guided tours are offered five days per week. The gardens are open to the general public, without charge. It's pleasant to explore the narrow streets of the old town. We came across the Merchant Taylors Hall - a medieval guildhall with a stunning timber interior. The red-brick cladding was added to the building around 1700. City trade meetings been continuously held here for over 600 years and the internal space can also be rented for events such as weddings and conferences. We worked our way towards to Shambles - a charming preserved shopping street with quirky timber buildings and a range of independent traders. We soon stepped inside the Fudge Pantry. Large groups of tourists make their way along the slender thoroughfare and several alleyways lead to Shambles Market - open seven days a week. We purchased pies for lunch and found a picnic bench in the city centre. Dessert was a box of truffles we had sourced at Monk Bar Chocolatiers. After more exploring on foot, we bought tickets for a circular bus tour that encompassed some outlying parts of York. The open-top deck upstairs proved to be a great viewing position as we set off from Exhibition Square. An early highlight was Clifford's Tower - the last remaining part of York Castle, northern England’s greatest medieval fortress. It stands on a grassy mound and has looked over the city since 1245. The town walls feature four main gateways and Walmgate Bar is the only one to retain all its security features, including a portcullis and barbican. From our vantage point, we spotted a few of the stone moggies that make up the York Cat Hunt. Over 30 sculptures are dotted around the streets, with many being attached to buildings. The bus cruised by the racecourse, which opened back in 1731. A premier venue for horses, several prestigious events are staged here. We skirted Rowntree Park, a public amenity created as a memorial to the employees of the famous chocolate manufacturer who perished in the First World War. The firm is now part of the Nestle empire but the local factory continues to make old favourites such as Yorkie, KitKat and Milkybar. Another legendary York confectioner was Terry's - known internationally for the Chocolate Orange. We passed the magnificent Art Deco Chocolate Works, opened in 1926. Production ceased here in 2005 and was moved to continental Europe. The derelict industrial site was redeveloped for residential use and the iconic clock tower has been restored to working order. The bus returned to it's starting point. A good way to widen your itinerary for a day visit.

We had a look around the colourful Museum Gardens. They cover a large area and entry is free. The floral beds are spectacular and there is a fine array of mature trees. Contained within the compound are the ruins of St Mary's Abbey - once one of the wealthiest and most powerful Benedictine monasteries in England. The Reformation led to the extensive buildings falling into decay. No visit to York is complete without setting foot on the City Walls. The complete circuit is around two miles and we managed a fair portion of that. The elevated platforms offer a unique view across the surrounding townscape. It began to rain quite heavily and we ducked back down to street level, finding shelter in the Old White Swan pub, which has been serving customers since 1703, making it the city's third oldest watering hole. Now owned by the Nicholson chain, the spacious premises offer a hearty menu and a range of casks ales. I was delighted to see Timothy Taylor Boltmaker on tap. This well-balanced traditional English bitter has long been a favourite of mine. We rested up until the weather improved and then visited a few independent shops. Time was pressing on and we dropped into a Wetherspoons pub near the railway station. It was pizza night and we took advantage of the bargain food offering. Afterwards, we strolled through the historic Micklegate Bar - the most important of York’s medieval entry points, and the focus for grand events. The train took us back to Brough and another urban adventure awaited the following day, at least for me. I wanted to visit Hull but Nicole decided to enjoy a quiet day of birdwatching around Barton instead. A local bus service whisked me over the Humber Bridge and into the big city. The Hull Paragon Interchange combines rail and coach connections on a single integrated site. A fantastic idea! I navigated towards the Museum Quarter, passing the grand City Hall, a major concert venue. I was hoping to encounter one of the mysterious white phone boxes along the way. The local telephone network never became part of the Post Office monopoly (later renamed British Telecom) and the public calling booths were painted a cream colour, rather than the world renowned red that applied to the rest of the UK. I soon found a fine example, although I assume in the current climate of mass mobile communications it exists for heritage reasons only. Nice to see though. The Hull Streetlife Transport Museum is free to enter and I examined the Victorian pitch cart on the forecourt, used for the purpose of carrying out road repairs. Inside the building, I recognised the light blue invalid carriage from 1970. These flimsy three-wheeled vehicles (legally motorbikes) were issued by the government to people with physical disabilities. The car could only accommodate one person and struggled to cope with high winds. There were still a few driving about when I began car spotting as a schoolboy in the early 80s. The BMW Isetta "bubble car" was also on display. This tiny cheap model enabled the company to survive the turbulent economic conditions in the post-war period. A prize exhibit is the Ryde Pier tramcar - reckoned to be the oldest carriage of its type in Britain. It ran on the Isle of Wight between 1867 and 1935. I entered the plush mahogany and teak interior. They certainly don't make them like this anymore.

Only one double decker tram from the City of Hull survives. All routes were converted to trolleybus operation by 1945. The overhead wires were taken down just two decades later. In the days when car ownership was rare, businesses sprang up along the public transport corridors. I watched a training video for bus conductors and coins/notes over a certain value had to remain within sight of the customer. Presumably so they couldn't falsely claim to have proffered a higher denomination. The museum had many galleries to browse and I was very impressed with the sheer size of the collection. Vehicles of all types were featured, including bicycles. Racing, commercial, military and leisure models graced the display cases. I learned that cycle polo was a popular sport in the 1930s, having been invented in Ireland. On one of the walls, my eye was drawn to an excellent large-scale map of Yorkshire. The complete historic county in all its glory. Alongside the locomotives, buses, horse-drawn carriages and motor cars, the scope of the museum was widened by mock-ups of traditional shops and examination of topics such as the lost country houses of East Yorkshire. The landed gentry adhered to a strict social calendar and moved down to their London townhouses for the annual season of sporting, artistic and social events. They would troop back north in the late summer for shooting, fishing and local race meetings. Earthier social history was explored via photos of scrap metal traders and rugby league stadia. This version of the oval-ball game is firmly rooted in working-class culture, whereas rugby union was associated with elite schools and universities. I gazed out over the River Hull from a large window. The watercourse runs through the city and empties into the Humber, but is no longer used for commercial shipping. Container vessels and passenger ferries dock in the main estuary. Streetlife is a fascinating treasure trove and I would strongly recommend dropping by. A short walk away is Wilberforce House - a museum dedicated to the famous anti-slavery campaigner. Entry was again free. The property (built circa 1660) was bought by the local authority in 1903 and opened to the public. Adjacent houses were later acquired to provide extra space for the exhibition. William Wilberforce was born here in 1759, by which time the family home resembled the building we see today. As the eldest son, William stood to inherit the successful merchant shipping business. After attending Cambridge University, he decided his professional future lay in politics. He was elected as MP for Hull at the age of 21 and subsequently as the representative for the whole of Yorkshire. He held office for over 40 years, becoming interested in the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade in the 1780s. Picking his battles, he first focussed on banning future trade, rather than immediately freeing the existing slaves. This strategy would have more chance of finding long-term support among a parliament that had members with money tied up in the plantations. After multiple defeats, the initial motion was finally passed in 1807. Full abolition across the British Empire arrived in 1833, as Wilberforce lay on his death bed. He was buried in Westminster Abbey and a tall monument was raised in his home town. The exhibition rooms looked mainly at the cynical triangular slave trade between the UK, Africa and the United States, but also included material relating to enslaved people throughout history.

Slavery was instrumental in establishing the British Empire as a world power and the profits enabled the big cities to grow economically. Manufactured goods were shipped to the west coast of Africa. Captured people were then taken across to America and the vessels returned home laden with valuable commodities such as sugar, cotton and tobacco. The whole system was cleverly structured to ensure the ships never travelled without cargo. Needless to say, the transit conditions for the slaves were absolutely horrendous. Death rates were high and disease was rife. Women and girls faced additional threats. The sheer amount of money at stake meant the political journey towards abolition was a protracted one. The much-heralded Emancipation Day was criticised in many quarters, due to that fact that former slaves would still be tied to their masters, albeit in paid positions. Or to put it another way, just another form of bondage. This halfway-house persisted for a further four years. France outlawed the deployment of slaves in 1848, but the USA didn't join the club until 1865, and the practice continued in South America until 1888. A harrowing tale of human history and a thought-provoking museum. Of course the ramifications of the trade continue to infiltrate society today. Next on my list was a walk out to East Park to view a sculpture dedicated to one of Hull's finest musicians, and a personal hero of mine. Mick Ronson gained enormous respect and admiration within rock circles during his role as David Bowie's guitarist in the early 70s. It was a couple of miles on foot and I stopped for lunch at McDonald's. East Park is the city's largest and Ronson worked here as a gardener before Bowie called. The singer's career had struggled to gain traction after a solitary hit single "Space Oddity" was deemed a novelty release and he was looking to adopt a new direction. Fellow Yorkshiremen Trevor Bolder (bass) and Mick Woodmansey (drums) were recruited to form the Spiders from Mars band, with Bowie fronting the project in the guise of Ziggy Stardust - an alien alter ego. Only Woodmansey is still with us today. The group slotted perfectly into the rising "glam rock" movement perfectly and considerable international success was achieved across four albums: The Man Who Sold the World, Hunky Dory, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust, and Aladdin Sane. The band were highly skilled players but the songs also appealed to a teenage audience, with several singles reaching the UK top-10, no doubt aided by the outlandish spaceman image. Bowie was the group's sole writer but Ronson proved to be the perfect foil, bringing the material to life in the studio and on stage. A multi-instrumentalist, he also possessed exceptional production and arranging skills. Countless guitarists have citing the Hull musician as a major influence over the years.

The Michael Ronson Reflection Garden is situated behind the pavilion and café. An eight-foot guitar sculpture stands in the centre. Constructed from steel, the artwork was designed by local college student Janis Skodins in 2017 - the year Hull was chosen as the UK City of Culture. A fitting memorial to a notoriously self-effacing man who perhaps never truly realised the extent of the admiration out there. Tragically, Mick Ronson passed away in 1993 at the age of 46 after contracting liver cancer. He had appeared alongside Bowie the previous year at the massive Freddie Mercury tribute show, which featured all the top acts of the day. The Spiders from Mars had run their course by 1974 and Bowie - always in search of new ideas and inspiration - moved in a different direction with new band members. It goes without saying that he became one of the most popular performers of all time, before his death from terminal cancer in 2016. Ronson's early input raises one of the classic "what if" scenarios... would Bowie have made it without his sideman? Impossible to say, but fun to speculate. After the Spiders break-up, Ronson was handed a big-budget solo deal and embarked upon high-profile tours. It didn't succeed, underlining the fact his great strengths were are as a collaborator rather than being the front man. It would be completely wrong to say he faded into obscurity. Ronson worked for many years with the evergreen Ian Hunter, formerly of Mott the Hoople and still making albums in his late 80s. As a producer, Ronson was in steady demand and he certainly kept his hand in. Had he lived longer, he would no doubt have been lauded as an elder stateman of rock n' roll. I sat by the sculpture and paid my own personal tribute. Thanks Mick. Back on the main road, I hopped on a bus heading into the city centre. I nipped into a large Wetherspoons near the transport interchange before travelling back to Barton, meeting up with Nicole, who had enjoyed a successful day's birdwatching. The local reserve is known as a haunt of the bittern - a wading member of the heron family with a distinctive booming call that can travel a couple of miles through the air. We had heard this sound ring out on several occasions since arriving at the caravan. We decided to stay local on our final full day. A pleasant walk along the Humber on an embanked path gave me the unexpected chance to do a bit of urban exploring. The derelict Humber Bridge Country Hotel was gutted by fire in 2023. The building had been badly damaged by a tidal surge a decade previously but reopened in 2017 after a major refurbishment and extension programme that provided an extra 25 ensuite bedrooms and four bridal suites. The new business lasted just four years before sudden bankruptcy beckoned. I stood in the car-park and surveyed a scene of utter devastation. We dropped down into a couple of bird hides and a few locals gave us the lie of the land. The 100-acre country park was formerly home to the chemical industry but has now been turned over to nature. We had a bite to eat in the visitor centre and and browsed the exhibition and shop. Back in the caravan that evening, we treated ourselves to a Chinese takeaway.

We usually incorporate a nature stop whenever faced with a long drive home. RSPB St Aidan's is situated within the shallow bowl of a former opencast mine. An enormous dragline machine (named Oddball) stands by the entrance as a reminder of the industrial past. The American-built excavotor arrived here in 1974 and was in service until 1988, when catstrophic flood halted mining operations for 10 years. When digging finally resumed, technology had moved on and Oddball was prserved as a monument overlooking the site. The RSPB now care for the land, which is designated as a nature park. A few people were pointing cameras towards an innocuous woodpile just to the right of Oddball. A little owl was sitting in the middle of the stacked planks but it took a few minutes for us to pinpoint the bird as it was so effectively camouflaged. I'm still not sure which was the bigger attraction for me personally. A gargantuan digging device or a raptor that is difficult to spot. We didn't really have time to explore the numrous trails so we settled for an alfesco coffee with an elevated view across the sunken land formation. We had driven past RSPB Fairburn Ings on the way here and went back a few miles for a look. Another former industrial complex, the reserve hosts some of Britain's rarest birds - including bittern, bearded tit, Cetti’s warbler, little egret and spoonbill.. Collapsed land has been remodelled as open water, reedbeds, wet grassland and wet woodland. Former coal spoil heaps have been transformed into dry grassland, deciduous woodland and lagoons teeming with life. The staff at the visitor centre informed us of the presence of cattle egrets in a field next to a secondary car-park. We headed along and struck gold. The white-bodied and yellow-beaked birds often spend time close to livestock such as sheep and cows, grabbing the insects and worms disturbed by hooves. Finishing off with a new life-spot meant was a fantastic end to the trip.

Brontë Country

Around 12 years ago, Nicole and I travelled to Suffolk to stay with friends. To break up the long journey, we booked a hostel room in the large Yorkshire village of Haworth. We didn't know much about the place but the photos looked nice. After checking in to our digs, we headed out to explore the central area and the toot of a stream locomotive rang out.

I knew instantly what I would be doing that afternoon! The heritage operation to Keighley was in full swing and I purchased a rover ticket and jumped aboard. That left Nicole with the issue of how to fill the remainder of the afternoon. We met up later and I discovered she had chanced upon the Brontë Parsonage Museum, dedicated to the trio of sisters who had set English literature alight with their Victorian-era novels. Their careers burned brightly, but briefly. All three female siblings succumbed to serious illness and passed away between the ages of 29 and 38. Brother Branwell - himself at one time a literary prospect - also died in his 30s. More about him later. The complete family story has even more twists and turns and the tragic saga captivated Nicole. She went on to read several of the Brontë books and watch the various film adaptations. We had of course been aware of titles such as Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre, but the stopover in Haworth prompted a more detailed investigation into this dynasty of classic fiction. We had long talked about a return visit to the village and this year we made it a reality. On the way home from our holiday in Wales, we headed along the M62 - a scenic route through the Pennines - and pulled in at Halifax for two nights. The former mill town has a population of 90,000 and would serve as a useful base. Our Travel Lodge was located within the Dean Clough cultural complex - a former industrial site home to the Crossley Carpet empire. 16 Victorian buildings have been renovated following the closure of the textile works in 1982. The amenities include shops, restaurants, theatre, art gallery, event spaces and co-working facilities. Our 52-room hotel offered the usual Travel Lodge furnishings, which are more than adequate in my opinion. The building was uncomfortably warm inside, due to the long heat wave that had penetrated the thick stone walls. Modern safety regulations don't allow guests to open windows more than a few millimetres. No big duvet required tonight then. We enjoyed a nice dinner in the adjacent Thai restaurant to celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary. Haworth wasn't our destination for the next day (Tuesday) as the Brontë Museum would be closed. Instead we drove early in the morning to Hebden Bridge - a charming market town just eight miles away, situated at the confluence of the River Calder and Hebden Water. Weaving was the main source of employment until the decline of the trade in the 1970s. Then town then took on an alternative new-age feel, following an influx of artists, musicians and writers. We enjoyed breakfast in a local café and Nicole browsed an independent craft shop - just one of many artisan traders in the town centre. We sought out The Book Case, which stocks a wide range of titles. I purchased a book about the UK Postal Paths, formerly used for mail delivery on foot in remote areas before the arrival of reliable road connections. After dropping into the traditional sweet shop, we sat on the river bank by the historic packhorse bridge (built circa 1510) and watched the birds.

Hebden Bridge is an excellent place to while away half a day. In the afternoon, we checked out Hardcastle Crags - a wooded valley leading to the early 19th-century Gibson Mill. The site is maintained by the National Trust and as members we were able to park for free. The walking trail up to the historic mill runs for a mile and a quarter along the Hebden Water. Originally built to spin cotton from raw fibre imported via Liverpool, the finished yarn would then be sold on to local weaving firms. Despite an upgrade to steam power, the business was ultimately unable to compete with the larger city mills and the Gibson family withdrew around 1890. After the turn of the century, the old industrial complex was transformed into an leisure hub for holidaymakers from Halifax and other towns around the Yorkshire and Lancashire. The railway had arrived in Hebden Bridge back in 1840. A restaurant was installed on the top floor and diners diners were treated to a view of the mill pond. Other facilities included a dance hall, roller-skating rink, pleasure boating, tea rooms and an ice cream parlour in one of the cottages. A hydro-electric turbine was soon installed to meet the increasing demand for power. Plans to flood the valley in order to create a new reservoir for Halifax were successfully repelled after a public outcry. Changing holiday habits eventually led to the entertainment emporium closing in 1953, but the National Trust stepped in to preserve the mill buildings and surrounding woodland. Today the complex is a popular local family attraction and I bought a cold drink from the well-patronised café when I arrived. Nicole had opted to remain in the river valley and work on her sketching. I browsed the second-hand bookshop on site and viewed the art exhibition upstairs in the principal mill building. The hydro electric machinery was also on display. From the stone bridge outside, I could look right up the steep gorge and see the source of the original water power. Back in Halifax, we opted for a cheaper dinner than the previous evening, picking up a supermarket meal deal and settling into the spacious hotel room for the night. The plan for tomorrow was to visit Haworth in the morning before heading back home up the M6. Just 12 miles distant, we soon reached the small hilly settlement that produced three of the most revered writers in the English language. The cobbled main street of Howarth is a real throwback to Victorian times and it's not difficult to mentally transport yourself back in time. There are many traditional shops and the vinyl record store added a touch of humour on its signage. The proprietor was listed as T. Venables (no, it's Tony!). Something football fans will understand.

The Brontë Parsonage Museum is situated at a high point in the village. The house was built in 1779 and Patrick Brontë was appointed as the local minister in 1820, arriving with his Cornish wife Maria and their six children. Sadly, Maria died from cancer the following year. Her sister Elizabeth Branwell moved into the parsonage to help raise the five girls and one boy. Patrick passionately believed in education as a means of advancement. He had been born into a poor Irish family but eventually won a scholarship to Cambridge University. The museum route took us through the various rooms used by the family, including the servant quarters. Many of the early writing forays took place in the dining room. Early editions of the sisters' novels were published under the male pseudonyms Currer, Ellis and Acton Bell. At the time, it was difficult for women to secure financial offers and they chose to write in secrecy, although you can see the coded references to the authors' true identities via the initials. Long before earning a living from book sales became a reality, the family was hit by a double tragedy. The eldest girls Maria and Elizabeth passed away at the ages of 11 and 10 respectively. Early death was a fact of life in the 19th century. Infectious diseases were rife and conditions that are easily curable or vaccinated against today took a heavy toll back then. Branwell's bedroom was presented in a chaotic state, befitting the lifestyle of a young man who wrote poetry and painted portraits, while developing a taste for alcohol. Our tour progressed into an extension of the original building, added during the residency of the Reverend John Wade, who succeeded Patrick Brontë. The exhibition here focussed on the life and works of the family members. As the surviving sisters reached adulthood, they worked as governesses, including spells in Belgium. Great things were expected of Branwell as the only son, but he drifted from one job to the next without showing signs of advancement. He was dismissed by the railway for accounting discrepancies and a tutoring career stuttered to a halt after rumours of inappropriate relations with the lady of the house. Anne, Emily and Charlotte eventually won critical acclaim under their own names but a grim fate lay in wait. A few months after the death of the ailing Branwell, by now addicted to alcohol and opium, Emily passed away from tuberculosis in 1848. Anne succumbed to the same affliction the following year, while seeking a sea cure in the coastal resort of Scarborough. Charlotte married in 1854 but was gone just nine months later. She was in the early stages of pregnancy. Patrick lived to the grand old age of 84, having outlived all his children. Charlotte's husband Arthur Bell Nicholls inherited many of the family heirlooms and took them back to his native Ireland. The Parsonage of course belonged to the church authorities. The Brontë Society was formed in 1893 and opened a small museum in Haworth. They hoped to one day acquire the property in which the sisters had lived. This became a reality in 1928, with local businessman Sir James Roberts acquiring the Parsonage and gifting it to the organisation.

The aims of the Society have changed little over the years. They collect, preserve, publish and exhibit material relating to the Brontës' lives and works. People come from all over the world to view the house and tread the cobbled streets of the hillside village that produced literary titans. Their works have been adapted for TV and cinema many times, starting in the era of silent movies. I haven't yet read a Brontë novel but plan to start with Jane Eyre. I did make another purchase in the museum bookshop and was offered the Society stamp inside the front cover. A couple of people ahead of me in the queue actively asked for this endorsement. It must be a known thing within fan circles. Afterwards we visited the adjacent church, where the Brontë family vault is situated beneath an internal pillar. Anne is not present, as Charlotte arranged for a burial in Scarborough to save their father - by this time an elderly man - the stress of attending yet another funeral in quick succession. We popped into the Black Bull - Branwell's old drinking haunt, but there was a lengthy waiting time for food and we decamped to a café further down the main street. I would advise anyone with an interest in fiction, or for that matter any type of literature, to spend a few hours in Haworth. Hell, even if you just know the Kate Bush song, just go. Don't expect the ghost of Branwell to lurch around the corner, but the whole place is steeped in the history of the written word.