A Ten-Year Anniversary

It was a bitter cold morning ten years ago today that my dad died. Ten years! I’m not going to ask the cliché question of “Where did that time go?” when I know exactly where it went.

I think he’d be delighted that I’m in England today, just as he would have happy for me to be in Mexico, the US, and western Canada in years past, all because that meant I had finally found my way out of that old life that made me so unhappy.

I went down to the village this afternoon for a little human interaction and shopping and treated myself to fish and chips because Dad would have loved them. I still have all the letters I wrote him from Scotland nineteen years ago. If I was writing him today, I’d just have this to say:

Hi Dad!

I’m finally learning to speak English! I was at the supermarket today looking for crackers and asked someone, “Please, where may I find the cr…ispbreads.” Crackers here go boom!

Miss you and wish you were here!

Love,

Shortstop

A Jaunt to Halifax

Just when I thought work was going into a lull, it picked up again. 2016 was all about travel, but 2017 needs to be a bit more work focused. So I’m glad there isn’t too much around here to distract me, just enough to give me a change of scenery if I need it. I haven’t been able to take a full day off, but a half day to run into Halifax was doable. I got up super early compared to what my schedule has been and was able to do three hours of work by 10:30 so that even with a stop at Barclay’s, I was on the 10:47 bus. I was pleased that a day rider is just £4 considering that a single into Halifax is £3.

Halifax was a centre of woollen manufacture from the 15th century onward. There’s really not much there from a touristy point of view, which was confirmed when I stopped in at the visitor centre behind the bus station (it’s in the library). I was irked to learn that the one thing I had planned to do was closed today, which I had not noticed on their website. Augh.

Like everywhere else I’ve seen in the area, Halifax is a modern town fitted into Victorian buildings. Even new construction has to fit into this aesthetic. I’m a fan of the programme “Grand Designs,” so I know how much work it takes to get planning permission to build in a more modern style pretty much anywhere into the UK.

Halifax’s shopping core is compact and has the expected assortment of shops.

I found the Borough Market, dating back to the Victorian era. It had a surprisingly Mexican feel to it.

Here’s a bit of the exterior of the market.

I love pub names…

Just a regular old bank. I am pleased that this architectural style isn’t something I’m used to yet.

Here’s another side of the market.

Halifax town hall.

I decided to go to my closed destination as I suspected there would be enough to do outdoors to make the one-mile trek there worthwhile. First, I stopped for lunch at a decent and very reasonably priced Chinese buffet restaurant. I tried some new things, like Mongolian style beef and duck. I was really impressed by the variety and quality of the food, especially the abundance of veggies and fruits. Then, off I went across the North Bridge.

On the other side, I saw my friend Vicki’s dream car. Can you spot it?

How about now?

Double decker buses aren’t exclusive to London.

I started to climb high above Halifax along a busy motorway. The walk was pedestrian friendly, but not obvious. I would sometimes take what I thought was a footpath and then have to double back to try a different approach as the roadway split many times and I’d find myself on the wrong side with no place to cross.

It had been sunny when I arrived, but the promised rain was rolling in and it was getting colder.

I spotted a church on a hill.

I love this billboard’s message.

The city quickly gave way to a rural landscape filled with sheep.

See the sheep looking straight at me? It was a little unnerving.

And voilà, Shibden Hall!

The earliest parts of this home date all the way back to the 1420s and it was heavily renovated by Anne Lister in the early 1800s to be more like what a proper Tudor home should be. Anne Lister is considered the “first modern lesbian.” I didn’t think I’d heard of her, but now I’m pretty sure I saw a Sue Perkins thing where she talks about her. Yup, I sure did.

I arrived at the West Terraces. From a plaque: “The West Terraces were constructed, along with the South Terrace, by John Harper as part of the improvements he designed for Anne Lister in 1836. Surrounded by mature trees, the Terraces are cut into the natural slope of the landscape and have stone retaining walls.” They held an orchard with all sorts of fruits with different growing seasons so there could be fruit throughout much of the year.

Anne had this Gothic tower added to the house and it became her library.

The gate at the back of the house was open, so I thought surely it would be okay to have a poke around…

I love the giant stone toadstools.

Well, just as I was heading back to wards the gate, a guy came out of the house to tell me they are closed. I apologised and said I was just trying to see as much of the exterior as I could since I hadn’t realised they were closed on Fridays. He sighed and said that he was waiting for a school group to come back, so why didn’t I come in and have a peek at the interior? Just a peek, though! What a nice guy!!!!

He led me into a hallway with dark wood panelled walls and a low ceiling. I was able to see a fairly standard Victorian kitchen. He then told me I could go look at the most interesting room in the house, to him anyway, a formal sitting room off the main hall. It had much higher ceilings. He explained that the original 1420 stuff is all there, but basically buried by Anne’s renovations. He showed me how the old beams were covered with planks to make them seem bigger and how one of the reasons for the lower ceilings was to make the rooms easier to heat. This is where he told me all that stuff about Anne Lister that I recounted above and that the house is only a museum now and there are no residents.

Obviously, he was doing me a huge favour and I didn’t want to take advantage, so I thanked him and headed out. It sucks that I didn’t get to see the whole property, but at least I didn’t go all the way out there for nothing. Some people are so kind!

It was almost two when I got back into Halifax and I was surprisingly rather footsore and tired. I blame all the hills and stairs in this area. It’s really not hard to get a good amount of exercise even when walking a short distance. I thought of maybe getting a coffee, but went down to the bus station to see when my next bus home would be. Well, there was one right there about to pull out, so I decided to get on.

The ride home was a bit faster than the ride in had been since there wasn’t as much traffic, but it was still almost 40 minutes. I didn’t see anything on either ride that I felt I need to go back out and explore.

I can’t believe I have less than a week left here! This time next week, I’ll be back in Manchester and on my way to my next assignment!

Off to Heptonstall in Search of a Grave

Whew. Today was the first time in ages that I was able to get away for a few hours. I keep hoping to be able to get away to Leeds for a day, but that’s looking less and less likely. At least, I could look for something close by to do today and the answer was obvious, visit the ancient village of Heptonstall, which towers over Hebden Bridge. As the crow flies, I am about 0.5KM from the centre of Heptonstall, but I have to go all the way down into the valley, cross the river, and climb up to Heptonstall, so it is quite a trek!

Take a second here to check out the Heptonstall Parish website. You’ll know why when you get there. 😉

Heptonstall is a quaint place to visit for its churches and ancient buildings, but it is probably best known for being the final resting place of author Sylvia Plath. I don’t pretend to be a huge connoisseur of her (it’s been so long since I read The Bell Jar that I barely remember it), but she asked a question that I asked myself many times before setting off on my life by design:

Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which one fits me and is most becoming?

Why not indeed? I sure didn’t find a valid answer.

Standing on my porch, sort of looking towards Heptonstall:

I headed down to the village, but where I normally turn left, I turned right to cross this bridge.

When I came home, there were archers practicing on this field.

Looking back towards Hebden before starting the climb up.

I somehow missed the staircase on the trip home and end up going down this super muddy path with only barbed wire to hold on to. That was fun.

At the top of the staircase, I followed a pretty path for a bit.

Climbing up above Hebden.

I eventually found myself on a very rough road with tons of caution signs to truck drivers.

My boots were a bit muddy.

I then had to walk along this road without a footpath.

Hebden’s layout is becoming clearer.

Just in case anyone has any doubt as to where I am, the slow sign being the wrong way should narrow it down.

Blue sky, just for a bit. I’d been switchbacking to this point and was at my final turn. I now have to follow that fence you see at the lower left. It’s now a straight climb to Heptonstall.

I loved how there were these super narrow breaks in the wall for people to squeeze through to reach sheds and footpaths.

I made it!

I made a note of the tearoom as I thought that I might have earned a cream tea!

There is a walk you can do in Heptonstall to see all the sights, but I really didn’t have that much time. So I headed straight for the churches and graveyards.

These are the ruins of the original village church.

And there’s new church.

Quoting from a plaque:

“The original church, dedicated to the martyred archbishop St Thomas à Becket, remained in use until the mid 19th century. Following storm damage in 1847, the decision was taken to raise money to build a replacement. The new church was completed in 1854 at a cost of £6,666. Instead of being demolished, the earlier building was left to become a ruin.”

It was very slippy and I had to be super cautious as I poked around.

Sylvia Plath is buried in the “overflow” cemetery across the street.

I had some limited instructions on my phone for how to find the grave, but of course, the stupid thing decided to die on me the second I arrived (despite having 85% battery life). I can’t wait to replace it!

So I walked among the gravestones looking for it. This stone caught my eye. Neville Longbottom is my favourite character in Harry Potter and I thought his unusual name was made up by JK Rowling. Nope!

I wandered the small graveyard a lot longer than I had planned to be there, looking for anything that had tributes by it. I eventually was able to discern a bit of a pattern to the dates on the markers and narrowed down in what rows Plath’s gravestone could be. On my final pass, I found it!

The gravestone has been damaged by vandals who removed “Hughes” from it, as some of her fans feel her estranged husband was to blame for her suicide.

Heading out, I passed this home with a lovely tower. Anyone who watches “Grand Designs” knows that a common way to update these old stone buildings in the UK and add on to them is by using glass and steel.

There were workers on site doing repairs to the church tower.

I did go for tea! 🙂 They didn’t have a cream tea per se, but I was able to order a pot of tea (Yorkshire blend), a raisin scone without butter, a pot of clotted cream, and a pot of jam à la carte for a total of £5. I was cold and tired and this was the prefect treat to get me home!

Of course, the walk down to Hebden was a lot quicker than the walk up to Heptonstall! I could see my front door from here!

I eventually found my way back to to the bridge after that harrowing downhill journey. It was only while going back over my photos that I realised where I missed a turn to get back to the staircase.

It’s a Small World

I don’t answer the landline when I’m housesitting, but when the phone rang last night, this morning, and about 30 minutes before Spanish class today, I made the correct deduction that I should pick up. It was the Spanish teacher uninviting me to attend her conversation class because my skills are too advanced. Instead, she suggested I come by around 3:30 and meet a Mexican friend of hers who lives here in Hebden. She could speak to me in English, me to her in Spanish, and we could talk about my impending move to Mexico. How awesome is that?!

Well…

The gal, who is from Chiapas, near Yucatán, cautiously felt me out, asking me quite pointed questions about why I’m moving to Mexico and what my views are on certain topics. It was incredible to see her warm up to me as I answered what I guess was correctly for her. Before I knew it, we were both laughing and crying as we talked about what we missed about Mexico, like the food (al pastor tacos and Abuelita hot chocolate!) and the brights colours. We bonded over how bland we find Europe, the US, and Canada compared to the explosion of sights, sounds, tastes, and smells that is Mexico. She was so excited for me to be moving at this time of major social transition in Mexico and she found my observations very astute for the limited amount of time I’ve been there and that I’ve really only been to one small part of the country.

We finally had to leave as our host had another class. I asked if they knew if Co-Op would still be open and my new friend’s expression brightened at that. She lives near the store, so she was happy that we could walk together and keep chatting as we headed there. Her English is very basic and after a bit more of her haltingly trying to make her points and me confirming that I could understand her we switched to just Spanish. We got some strange looks as we made our way through this sleepy English village giggling away in Spanish. It was the best time I’ve had with someone in a very long time, even more special than my last night in Spain.

I’ve only got two more weeks here (already!), but we promised to see each other again. I think that this is one person I might end up keeping in touch with. We shall see…

I got what I needed at Co-Op and then decided that since a) I didn’t spend the £5 I was going to spend on a lesson, b) I am incredibly well under my food budget for January (thank you, Tesco!), and c) I had to get back to work when I got home, I was going to get fish and chips to keep my hands warm on my long walk home! Oh, didn’t I mention that it was about -1C/30F out? BRRRRRRR.

The chippy was doing a brisk business, but the line moved quickly. I was able to get a half portion of chips for 50p less than a full portion and that was absolutely perfect for me. It was sooooo good and I conveniently finished as I approached the public garbage can by my house so I didn’t have to worry about stinky trash at home.

What an incredible day it’s been. I’m going to be working late, of course, but it was worth it. Who would have thought that I’d make a Mexican friend here of all places?

A Promise Kept

It was minus one when I woke up. BRR. The house here is surprisingly well insulated and I don’t have to heat at night at all (and by that, I mean I’m sleeping in short and a tee-shirt!). So when I wake up to the room being chilly, I know the temps really dropped overnight.

It was super foggy when I drew the curtains in the sitting room:

I had a manageable workload today and had sort of thought to go into the village for coffee, but let me remind you that it was cold.

But the day warmed up a bit and by 3:30 or so I was getting antsy. I reminded myself that I had promised to ignore the weather and just get out while I was in England. So I bundled up and headed out into a slight drizzle.

I like how colourful this street is, a rare treat.

This bumper sticker made me laugh.

I wasn’t too stylish, but I was comfortable.

I took a different route that took me on the other side of the old bridge. I can’t believe how old it really is!

Near the supermarket, I passed a store with interesting jewellery made of old coins. It was heartwarming to see supporters of Standing Rock out here!

I thought coffee was going to be challenging, but one of the bags of the store brand dark roast had a leak and I could smell it. OMG. It was so wonderful! I then spent quite some time selecting three beers (1.5L) for £5 and something to add to my leftover pasta for dinner (hint: the Brits know how to do sausage).

I was amused that the temperature was almost balmy when I got out of the store! And I thought temps changed quickly in Canada.

The walk home was slow as my knee has really been bothering me for a few days. That’s the only thing I don’t like here, the very long steep climb home and the stairs I have to go down at the end, on top of the surfaces being so slick. But I love walking in the village as it is so pretty and quaint. I’m starting to know my way around despite the haphazard layout. Today, I noticed a Middle Eastern grocery store (!!!!!), so I am going to check it out when it is open to see if I can get some hummus ingredients as what I’ve gotten from Tesco hasn’t been great. Get this, the owner of the house has the exact same food processor I have back home! It’d be nice to put it to use. 🙂

So that was all the excitement from my little corner of England. Riveting stuff, I know, but, hey, I’m getting used to crossing the street her and looking the correct way first so that’s something newsworthy! 🙂