St Thomas à Becket Church

Heptonstall's original church, dating back to the 13th century, was badly damaged in a storm in 1847. The congregation's answer was to build a new church next to it, which is still used. The old church remains as an atmospheric ruin within its crowded graveyard, reputed to hold 100,000 burials. 

We were amused by the sign glimpsed through one of the old church windows, which says 'Churchyard Bottom'. (A bit too small to read on my photo). 'Bottom' is a common geographical term in the UK and there are apparently at least 356 actual places with Bottom in the name, including Scratchy Bottom and Happy Bottom in Dorset, Flash Bottom in Staffordshire and Slap Bottom in Hampshire. Just along the road from Heptonstall itself is Slack Bottom. 

My daughter and I spent quite a while enjoying the carved lettering on the gravestones. Part of her job is designing websites so she has a 'professional interest' in fonts. I love the hand carved shapes and the huge variation you find. 

Meanwhile, my younger granddaughter disappeared, only to be spotted halfway up a tree. 🙈 Little monkey! She's always been an adventurer. That and the fact that she's good at maths makes me doubt sometimes that she can actually be a descendent of mine! There's no way you'd ever have got me up there.

Remembrance Sunday

St James Church is the parish church of Hebden Bridge, situated a little way out of the town centre. My younger granddaughter is a pupil at the primary school linked to the church. She's joined the worship group and so she was involved in the Remembrance Sunday service at the church. Later, people gathered around the town's war memorial for a short Act of Remembrance led by Rev'd Ruthi Gibbons and Rev'd Canon Major David Banbury (Ret'd).  We observed two minutes silence at 11am, as is traditional. Hebden Bridge Band played a few hymns and, after the laying of poppy wreaths, there were prayers. 

It always seems rather touching that this same act is happening in churches, cathedrals, parks and town squares all over the country at the same time, with congregations large and small. This year marks 80 years since the audacious D-Day Operation Overlord, in the Second World War, when thousands of allied troops stormed the Normandy beaches and subsequently delivered peace on the Western Front. These days, of course, we also reflect on many subsequent wars and pray for peace in the world's current trouble spots. 

Remembrance Day itself is always marked at 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month (today), which is the actual day that the Armistice was signed to end the First World War. 

After a couple of weeks of dry, mild weather, it reverted to type with a damp, drizzly and rather cold day... but then, that's usual for Remembrance Sunday and somehow it wouldn't feel right if it wasn't like that! 

The little Memorial Garden is surrounded by rather wonderful beech trees, and I enjoyed the colouring and shape of the one by the gate. 

Kettlewell village

Kettlewell is a quintessential Yorkshire Dales village, sleepy during the week but a magnet for visitors at weekends and in the school holidays. It's bisected by Kettlewell Beck, which meets the River Wharfe at the west end of the village. Many of the properties are quite old - 17th and 18th century - and the area boomed in the late 18th/early 19th centuries when lead was mined in the surrounding hills. 

It's attractive in a solid, Dales kind of way, with well-kept cottage gardens overflowing with roses at this time of year.

Keep your eyes open and there are hints of its history - though I do not know how old this engraving in a barn wall is. 

There has been a church, St Mary's, here since Norman times though the present structure dates only to the 19th century. 

Surrounded by the meadows and fells of Upper Wharfedale, its churchyard is a haven of peace, and has been developed as a wildflower and wildlife sanctuary. At the entrance is a beautifully carved lych gate, erected in 1921 by George and Mabel Holdsworth in thanksgiving for their marriage. The Holdsworths lived at Scargill House until they sold it in the 1950s to the Church of England to become the Christian community that it is now. 

I took some photos inside the church on a previous visit - see HERE if you're interested. It has some lovely stained glass. 

 

A shopping trip enhanced

From my new flat, it is still a comfortable walk to the centre of Shipley and to the Asda supermarket, a little further than from my old place but not unreasonably so. That's good news for my health, and I try to walk unless I am getting so much stuff that I can't carry it easily. It's a whole new route to explore and there are signs of spring to enjoy on the way. The magnificent magnolia tree is only surpassed by that amazing tower on the corner of the large Victorian house. What lengths the architects went to in those days to signify wealth and status. 

Just opposite stands Shipley Parish church, with a riot of daffodils in front of the Easter crosses. Part of me wishes they would clean the stone of the church. It remains soot-blackened from the days of smoking fires and mill chimneys, lending the church, which is actually a rather fine building, a gloomy and somewhat menacing air. 

Reorientating

I've only moved about half a mile from my old house to my new apartment yet it's odd how that has reshaped my local world. It's all familiar territory but setting off from a different place means subtle adjustments to my route, whether on foot or by car, with new views of familiar things to be enjoyed. I've always been able to look up to Baildon Moor and the wonderfully named Hope Hill in the distance. From this new place, higher up the other side of the valley, I look across to it - and indeed can see it from my flat's balcony, which I'm thrilled about as I love this view. 

I can also see the church tower from my windows and have to go around either the front or back of it to get to the main road, shops and down into Saltaire village. 

The house at the far side of the road junction (on the photo above) is now an estate agent's office. Built in 1866, it marks the southwest corner of Saltaire village. It is the only detached house in the entire village and was once the home of the chief cashier of Salts Mill. Its history is documented HERE. The road junction, incidentally, is universally known by locals as 'Saltaire roundabout', though the roundabout disappeared a few years ago and was replaced by traffic lights. 

So far I have not forgotten where I now live and arrived back at my old house... but I wouldn't put that past me! I often have to sit and think about exactly which way I have to go to get to where I'm heading from here. 

Silsden saunter

It's that time of year again when I trot off to the garage in Silsden to have my car's summer tyres exchanged for the winter ones. I probably wouldn't bother as usually I avoid driving in ice and snow but, with my daughter and family living over the hill in Calderdale, I'm always afraid I might get caught out. Up on the bleak moorland road that separates us, it can be foggy, snowy or icy even if the weather is fairly pleasant in the valleys. 

I had an hour or so to wait whilst the mechanics got to work and, as it was bright and sunny even though cold, I had a short wander around the town. I was pleased to discover one of those small local hardware stores that sells virtually everything. You can usually buy, say, just two screws if that's what you need, rather than a whole plastic-wrapped pack of twenty such as you'd get in a DIY superstore. Not that I needed anything (though I'm sure once I've moved house I'll be frequenting such shops more often as I get to grips with what needs doing). 

I detoured to explore the churchyard of the parish church of St James, which provides a little green oasis in the centre of town. 

Christmas Day

'The light of the Christmas star to you.

The warmth of heart and home to you. 

The cheer and goodwill of friends to you. 

The hope of a childlike heart to you. 

The joy of a thousand angels to you. 

The love of the Son and God's peace to you.' 

(Irish Blessing)

The picture above was painted by a talented artist, Christine, who is a member of my church congregation. It decorates the noticeboard outside our church, bringing a reminder of 'the reason for the season' (as they say) to all who pass it. The star, below, shines from the window of Saltaire's URC church. 

With my best wishes for today and the coming year, to all those who read my blog. 

The season for remembrance

I had to go to Addingham on an errand, and I stopped by the church to enjoy the autumn colours around the churchyard. As I got closer I noticed the cascade of knitted poppies. This seems to be something that has taken off in recent years, sparked originally, I think, by the installation of ceramic poppies: 'Blood Swept Lands and Seas of Red', that were displayed around the Tower of London in 2014 for the centenary of the beginning of WWI.  (See HERE) 

Autumn to me always feels like a season of remembrance anyway, a sad and poignant time as the leaves fall and the nights draw in. Of course we continue to mark Remembrance Day in November, recalling the armistice that ended WWI. I have no close family members that were in the armed forces. It just so happens that most of my male ancestors were 'the wrong age' (thankfully!) or in protected occupations during both major World Wars, though my father did have to do 'national service' after the war ended.  

Nevertheless, it feels important to take some time to reflect on our personal and national history and the service and sacrifice of people in war, conflict and peacekeeping operations ... lest we forget.  

All Saints Church, Little Horton

As I happened to be passing All Saints Church, Little Horton on a beautiful day, I decided to stop and take some photos. I think it is an absolutely stunning building. Its elegant tower spire is over 61m tall and visible for miles. 

It was built in 1864, designed by Francis Healey for the Lord of the Manor of Little Horton Green, Sir Francis Sharp Powell who lived in Horton Hall (now demolished).  When the church was built, Bradford was rapidly expanding and nowadays the church is hemmed in by the city, not far from the University and right opposite one of the main hospitals (some of whose original Victorian buildings used to be a Victorian Workhouse). At one time though, this was a small farming and cotton weaving hamlet; some of the old buildings still survive behind the church. 

It was closed, of course, so I couldn't go inside but I think the interior has been changed quite a lot in order that it can serve both as a church and a community facility. It operates as the Landmark Centre, founded 20 years ago through an exciting vision by the church to make good use of the space, in a relatively deprived parish with a diverse multi-ethnic population. The centre currently runs training courses to help people into work and offers support groups for children with additional needs and challenging behaviour, providing respite for local families. 

To have the care of such significant church buildings in deprived areas is something of a ongoing headache for clergy and the Diocese, and repairs rely heavily on grants and trusts. That they continue to offer both worship in a lively congregation and many other vital community services is testament to the vision and love anchored here for many years. 

 

I'd like to be here... #2

I wish it was Spring! I wish I was here... This is the village of Arncliffe, in Littondale. Littondale is the sheltered, fertile valley of the River Skirfare, which flows down to join the Wharfe. Most people go past on the way to Kettlewell and upper Wharfedale without noticing or exploring this picturesque limestone dale, up a narrow side road. It is well worth a visit, with a few picturesque villages and some lovely old properties dating back to the 17th century. The church of St Oswald sits prettily on a bend in the river. 

Travel up Littondale right to its northern end and you can skirt the flank of Pen-y-Ghent, one of Yorkshire's Three Peaks and drive over into Ribblesdale.