"I'm a rover and seldom sober, I'm a rover of high degree"
We have just had the hottest September day ever recorded in Yorkshire - and it was the last day of the month - not the first. So once again I was rambling. This time to the north west of the city in the vicinity of Bradfield which is actually two villages a few hundred yards apart. Down in the valley there's Low Bradfield, nestling beneath Agden Reservoir and up on the hill there's High Bradfield with its picturesque church, its sturdy stone dwellings and "The Old Horns Inn".
I realise that some non-English (alien) visitors have enjoyed seeing my last two batches of local photos so at the risk of boring other visitors senseless, I have another photographic offering for you. Today I was like Heathcliff, tramping the moors, at one with the elements which were incredibly benign, putting Heathcliff's troubled soul at rest... "A half-civilised ferocity lurked yet in the depressed brows and eyes full of black fire, but it was subdued; and his manner was even dignified: quite divested of roughness..."
After three hours of rambling I returned to our coach and ventured in to "The Old Horns" where I purchased a simple luncheon of broiled rabbit, a thick wedge of Wensleydale cheese and a slab of warm farm bread. In the murky candlelight, I recognised the inn's young landlord - yon Edgar Linton from Thrushcross Grange - still as pale and bony as a skellington. What Cathy spied in him only the Almighty knows. For my part, I would have whipped him and left him to weep in the company of yon wretched whelps. But I quaffed my glass of bitter Farmers' Ale and continued on my journey across the naked moors back to Wuthering Heights.
Oaks Farm across Damflask Reservoir:-
View to the cricket pavilion in Low Bradfield:-
Window of an abandoned farm in Coumes Woods:-
View into Bradfield Dale from Cliffe House Farm:-
Returning to High Bradfield:-
Broiled rabbit? Sound like something from mediaeval times, methinks. Time Keith and I came over to Yorkshire again to sample its culinary delights. ;)
ReplyDeleteYou are being very persuasive. I must visit.
ReplyDeleteThese autumn photos always make me homesick.
ReplyDeleteI've told you about scattering my mother's ashes at Low Bradfield?
You should've looped back over via Bradfield school into t'Oughtibridge, called in at Miss Havisham's, Estella's and her new wife's and dropped in at yon academy and just laughed, explained your Great Expectations these days and walked out again...
(Sorry I'm mixing my Victorian novels)
JENNY May I remind you that Yorkshire puddings are delightful, especially when smothered with onion gravy.
ReplyDeleteKATHERINE Our immigration and customs officials will do a merry jig for you when you arrive.
LORD BOOTH of BOOTHBOTTOM I don't recall you talking about your mum's ashes. Why did you choose Low Bradfield? Was it special to her? By the way I didn't really eat broiled rabbit in the "Old Horns", I had a fresh tuna mayo sandwich with a nice side salad and a pint of orange cordial and soda water. They seem to be really trying hard with their food offerings there at the moment. Maybe you and Denise should try it next summer... It's currently twenty eight degrees outside. I must get back to cutting the grass as drug dealers used to say.