Don't tell Titus

About 30 years ago, I discovered Saltaire, just outside Bradford. I honestly believed that no one else in the world knew about it.

It was clearly a small Victorian town, planned along, almost US type grid lines.... and seemed to have been built to house mill workers at what was then, 30 years ago, the completely derelict Salts Mill.

 

I was fascinated. I saw two cassocked priests playing badminton over a net strung between lampposts on the drive way up to the rather gorgeous church.....but apart from them, I saw hardly anyone.

No badminton playing vicars when I took this photo....but those are the lamp posts where they had strung the net.
 

Many of the houses were boarded up, the patches of green, between the derelict mill and factory buildings were overgrown, and the whole place had a feeling of the Marie Celeste.

However...the historian (well, history teacher) in me, recognised something special about the place.

The mill buildings were huge...the biggest I had ever seen. I later discovered that it had been the biggest factory in Europe when it was built.

 

The houses were solid, good Victorian stone buildings. They had interesting  and decorative arched window and door features. Each street contained dozens of small 2 up 2 down artisan classic well built terraced houses, but at each end of the street were larger, more imposing buildings.

 

The names of the streets fascinated me too.Not just the usual Coronation St, Sebastopol Terrace and Victoria Road that could be found in any old Victorian street plan.....but Ada St., Caroline St., and Titus St.

 

The mill buildings were in a valley.....water rushing past, a clear power source, the canal ran through the valley.....as did the railway......it all started to fit together. This had clearly been a huge industrial centre......and various images began to emerge from the grander buildings that I kept coming across.

Lamas featured heavily.....and a few other woolly looking beasts...alpaccas..they featured on coats of arms hidden within the grime of the buildings.

 

At the bottom of the valley, even lower down that the factory buildings, and the canteen, the hospital building , the church, and the public assembly rooms, there was a park.....very Victorian in lay out.....flower beds, walk ways, tree lined avenues, and beyond....the hills....and the vast Yorkshire sky.

 

All of this could have been seen from the huge windows in the main factory building. My understanding of 19^th century factory conditions, was that workers were not encouraged to look out of windows. In fact most would have had very little natural light to have worked by. They slaved away at their looms for 12 -14 hours a day,no looking out of windows allowed.

Everything I saw smacked of Victorian philanthropy......decent solid houses for workers, a factory with light, and views of the hills and the sky, somewhere for workers to worship, to meet and socialise, to walk at the weekend, out of the city.

It did all fit. As it happened I apparently had not discovered Saltaire. Possibly, a bit like Columbus did not discover America.

In the church I found a brief poorly produced leaflet explaining how Titus Salt had envisaged this model town for the workers in his factory.  He wanted his workers to be healthy, partly for his own benefit of course, but also because he was genuinely philanthropic.The church, where Titus is buried, was finished before anything else, and although workers were allowed a day off, and the park was built for them....they were not allowed to drink alcohol anywhere in Saltaire. There were no licensed premises...no beer halls for Titus’s workers.

The streets were named after his children, and the larger houses, dotted along each street were for the factory supervisors. So the workers were supervised at work and at play.

 

He imported exotic south American fibres and contributed massively to the Yorkshire textile industry....and his own wealth.

Now of course..... 30 years from my discovery......Saltaire is a tourist destination. The fabulous redeveloped Salts Mill is the centre for a fabulous Hockney gallery. Brilliant use has been made of the vast floor space that was the original mill building. Beautiful books, art, pottery, rugs and tapestries can be viewed and bought there. Operatic arias played on the ground floor gallery fill the space, accompanying the tourists looking at the Hockneys .Gorgeous meals can be eaten in the lovely restaurant on the top floor, diners able to look out across the mill roof, and to the hills beyond.

 

Mark, browsing....imagining those looms.

 

Now, it is also possible to drink alcohol within the town boundaries.....and a clever wine bar owner has called his bar “ Dont tell Titus”.

 

I love this place, partly because it represented real improvement in living and working conditions for Bradford’s textile workers, albeit for Titus Salt’s profit.....but mainly because I discovered it.

Round 4

A quick update....things are going well. I am still having a period of feeling reasonably well in between chemo sessions, able to “lunch” with friends, visit grandchildren, bake cakes and make marmalade, as well as managing gentle sessions at the gym....so, not too bad. We are actually hoping to get to France for a week before session 5.

Mum....Joy 1931 -1983

It has been strange to spend Valentine's day...also 30th anniversary of mum's death, hooked up to the chemo machine.....but it was very relaxing, staff were brilliant...again......not really a bad way to spend a day.

 

 

4 down, 2 to go.......Who says walking on water is hard ? Apparently anything is easy if you have the right shoes.

 

Woolworths

I seem to be more or less keeping up with reading my favourite blogs at the moment, and commenting from time to time, although not as much as I like to do. I love the interaction of blogging, and love to get to know people more through each exchange of thoughts triggered by blogging’s ponderings.

Anyway....with a window of just about 10 -14 days within each 3 week period, where I feel human, between chemo sessions.....getting a blog written has not been a priority. I am filling my good days with trips and visits, walks, and socialising in the real rather than virtual world. However, I keep having ideas that I have to jot down,....thinking, oooh, that can feature in a blog soon.

I had one of those moments earlier this week, when still feeling really poorly, just 4 days after a 6 hour day of chemo infusion. The postman arrived with a parcel...clearly a book....that I struggled to recall ordering. Then all became clear. Annie, from Alacala, from Moving On, previously from our Kirklees working days, had sent me a book that she hoped I would enjoy.

It was called “ Our spoons came from Woolworths” and is by Barbara Comyns.

I haven’t started it yet, but it is next on the list, and I am so looking forward to it. This is partly because if Annie has recommended it, I am sure I will love it, and partly because I wish I had written it. The title has me completely sure I will love every word. It has conjured up a huge web of connected thoughts for me. If you have the patience.....let me explain.

When I was very young, my grandparents, Alice and her very violent and unpleasant husband, Thurlo, lived on West Hendon Broadway in north London. Every Saturday morning, Mum and I ( and after 1959) Mum, my baby brother and I, would catch 2 buses from our home in Mill Hill East, to “the Broadway”. My grandmother prepared lunch, always ready for us when we arrived, and after lunch, we would walk along the Broadway to pick up a few bits of shopping. It was always a treat for me, because, at the far end of the Broadway......was........ Woolworths.

This isn't my West Hendon Broadway Woolworths.......but this is exactly how I remember it.

I adored it. I loved the huge heavy double dark wooden framed glass doors, the speak your weight machine that was just inside the middle double doors, the polished wooden floors,  and the huge high island counters spread with complete treasure troves.

My favourites were not the toy or sweet counters, although they had to be visited each week. I loved the wool counter, the haberdashery counter, the soap and cosmetics counter and the small kitchen utensil counter.

again.....not actually the West Hendon branch.....but this is what I remember, even if this photo was taken at the end of the 1930s...not the end of the 50s.

( Years later I always laughed when I heard the gorgeous Nanci Griffith’ song about her local Woolworth’s “5 and dime store” in Lubbock in Texas, which sold  “ unnecessary plastic things”, had an elevator that went “ping” and that she always had time to run into and check out a bin of cheap records while she waited for a bus home from school.)

Visiting Woolworths with my mother and my grandmother and baby brother was the highlight of my week. The noise of people’s feet on the wooden floor, the smell of polish and the colours from the counter contents are so vivid in my memory, and it all came rushing back to me when I opened Annie’s gift to me.

We always bought something....usually for me I expect.Those 2 women spoiled me rotten.We always weighed ourselves and laughed at the speaking machine, and then we wandered back home to number 158, where we had a cup of tea and a piece of my grandmother’s wonderful home made  lemon sponge cake, before setting off on our 2 bus journey home. My grandfather was rarely home....which was a good thing, although I now know that probably, after we left, he returned home from an afternoon of drinking and gambling, and my grandmother did not usually have a happy Saturday night.

In 1962 or 3, with my grandmother’s help, I bought my mother a mother’s day gift from Woolworths on Hendon Broadway. It was a set of salad servers. They cost 1/9d..........less than 10p in current currency !   I still use them.

Now, 50 years old.....still going strong.

So maybe, my novel should be called “ Our salad servers came from Woolworths”

Thanks Annie, for setting off this train of thought. I’ve enjoyed it so much, and now I am really looking forward to reading the book.

Decorations packed away

Taking down the decorations is never as much fun as putting them up. However for me, this year, it has been enjoyable. I was not feeling well enough to dress our tree as normal this year, so daughter Jess did. As she is celebrating a belated 21^st birthday, in New York, this week, she is unavailable for the de - decorating chores. Luckily,in my gap between chemo treatments I’ve been feeling good, so have got stuck into removing decorations and lovingly wrapping them until next year.

Each group of decorations comes with a story, that I have enjoyed reliving as I’ve wrapped and stored each little treasure.

The whole pile.......from the US, from Ireland, from Hungary, Prague, Mexico,India, Australia( note the Koala angel ! ) and various parts of the UK.

the Santa Collection...some of which were acquired from Kohls in Sheboygan in 1984....others were gifts

Americana....elephants, New England fishermen and red barns

graham crackers, chocolate & marshmallows........a reminder of a brilliant log cabin vacation in Door County when Jess learned all about smors.

Henry VIII & a few wives....and a Bishop....

Scarlett O'Hara, Mark broke the original one brought carefully from the US as a gift for Christmas..... so we had to go in search of a replacement....eventually found in Door County, Wisconsin, one steamy hot August day....still looking for Rhett though.

Betty Boop....discovered in a TK Max sale bin in Huddersfield.... I was thrilled.

Flying cat

home made by the children at various stages

Gifts from friends in Wisconsin in 1984... we had a secret Santa ornament giving session between the staff at the school where I taught. These were my acquisitions, and remain two of my favourites.

 

The Arizona collection 

I have a whole series of these beautiful wooden ornaments, celebrating Christmas in Kohler...every year since 1984.

Door County.....and NYC.

Anyway, they are all packed away again now.....carefully preserved in tissue paper, ready for next year.

 

 

 

Just one big normal end to the year

 

Our Christmas day was spent at Carole’s house.... Carole is my husband Mark’s first wife, and mother of his first 2 children....and the woman who generously shares her children and grandchildren with me.

Liam, anticipating all the good things to come.

 

So much going on.....

 

It was a lovely day. The 4 grandchildren were the centre of attention, and amused us beautifully.

Dexter’s reciting his words in his recently performed nativity...

“ Aye up Mary, it’s off t’ Bethlehem for us”....or something very similar, had us rolling around.

Liam’s Twinkle twinkle little star had me all choked up.

 The rendition of “ We wish you a merry Christmas......... to you and your king”, rather than kin, had daughter in law Sarah desperately trying to get a 21 year old as well as the 4 year olds to listen, and learn the proper words....all to no avail.

No, we'll sing the words we want to sing....

 

so much concentration required to play with the cracker presents

Carole and Peter’s efforts to ensure everyone had a good time were much appreciated. Her surprise Christmas grotto, with a covering of cotton wool snow, required little boys to don cardboard and tinsel snow shoes.....a brilliant invention.

The snow shoes had fallen off by this stage
 

Three days later I met up with  Annie http://chocolateannie.blogspot.co.uk/ ( Moving On). We used to work together in Kirklees, but have really only got to know each other well since she moved to Spain and we have become part of the amazing  blogging community. Annie persuaded me to blog when I moved part time to France.... and she has since become my role model for all sorts of things....including making chocolate. It was wonderful to see her in the flesh again... and we have plans to meet up in Spain next year.

Me, on the left, with Annie, at her reunion with many of her friends from when she lived in Huddersfield

 A day after that Mark and I celebrated our 20^th wedding anniversary.....with all the same people we celebrated Christmas with,  as well as Mark’s ex mother- in law and Mark’s sister and 2 of her children, and her soon to be daughter-in-law. ( We are very fond of Mark and Shardae, as they announced their engagement when they were staying with us in France last summer, and we are really looking forward to their wedding).

Clark helping us celebrate

celebrating 20 years of incredibly happy marriage
 

Anyway....” It were another good do”, held at our local pub, the Stubbings Wharf, made famous by Ted Hughes when he was moaning about the dreariness of what he saw as the depressing Calder valley. We were not depressed, despite the continuing rain.

My only other news is that whilst feeling very well, in the window of wellness that occurs between chemo treatments, my hair has now gone. All the wigs and scarves I had at the ready are now being used for real. It feels strange, and was certainly quite traumatic when it started falling out in what I called  nest- fulls. However, a week or so on, and I am more used to it.

 

 Christmas has been good, the wedding anniversary was lovely, and I am full of hope for an excellent 2013.

A very happy New Year to all of you.

 

 

Normal.......well, nearly normal.

I have been longing for feeling normal again after my surgery, and now, my first session of chemotherapy.

 

It isn’t just feeling normal that is holy grail like at the moment..it is doing normal things. I want to just wander into town to potter around and pick up a few Christmas presents. That hasn’t really been possible. Walks have been exhausting, Mark doesn’t like leaving me on my own for more than about 20 minutes, and organising  all the appointments for treatment, follow - up, blood tests, wig fittings, etc etc seem to take forever. All of this of course, underlines the fact that cancer and its treatment now dominates our lives...... and I want normal !

So...although my initial reaction to my first chemo session was to require extra pain relief, and a trip to the wonderfully supportive oncology ward at Huddersfield Royal Infirmary last weekend....since then, I have recovered well. After a couple of days of pain, total exhaustion set in...which is not unpleasant.......as long as you don’t try to do anything. I drifted from bed to sofa, from dreams to rubbish on TV, a few conversations, and directions to Jess as to where to place tree decorations....and then...suddenly, 2 days after that.... I recognised, starting to feel “normalish”.

Thanks for getting the tree and decorating it Jess.... a really good job.

Yesterday, I made a cake. It wasn’t a special cake. In fact I couldn’t even remember my normal Victoria sponge ( with a hint of chocolate) recipe. It is one I have used for years. I never have to look it up, I just get the right amount of stuff out of the cupboard and do it. For some reason I could not remember how many eggs, how much butter, sugar, flour......Then, I realised I had no idea where I even got my usual recipe from in the first place. So, for the first time in a long time, I consulted Mary Berry, and went for her creamed recipe rather than the all in one, never being a fan of all in one stuff.

 

The cake is great...... and drinking coffee, and eating cake that I have made just feels amazing.........really, really, normal

 

Valley Light Parade: Hebden Bridge

A shop window in Hebden Bridge......depicting...... Hebden Bridge

Hebden Bridge has been part of the Calder Valley Lights Parade this year...last week it was held in Todmorden, this week, here in Hebden Bridge and next week it will be in Mytholmroyd.

It has involved children making lanterns in workshops held all over the 3 towns. It has involved market stall holders, canal boat owners,brass bands, drummers, shop keepers, schools, teachers, parents, pupils......and last night, in Hebden Bridge, it seemed to involve everyone who lived within miles of the place.

handmade lanterns adorned the streets

The Christmas lights were turned on, the flame thrower played with fire, the bands marched, the lanterns swung high in the sky, the children laughed and the beautiful canal decorations changed colour in time to the music.



 

I do love Hebden Bridge