Haworth, Bronte country May 31st.

This was the last weekend of May and a public holiday. We spent one day out looking at homes on canals again but as I guess you are less than interested in looking at the backs of houses, I thought this was a much nicer scene from a canal at Foulridge, or Silsden or somewhere on our walks along the Leeds Liverpool Canal this weekend .

Monday was also a national holiday, no I have no idea why, every national holiday is called a bank holiday so I never know if it's VE day or Queen's birthday, or what. But a national day off is always good if Gail is not working and even better if it isn't cold and wet. Monday was a sort of an alright day and we decided to go west to Bronte Country, where the sisters grew up. Its about an hour from Wetherby. The drive is through some of the typical grotty, crowded, lets face it, ugly towns of post industrial Yorkshire from which the expression 'Íts grim up north' obviously originates.

But with all things Yorkshire it is worth persisting as just around the corner is a gem of a place, a spectacular view or a fantastic pub or cafe.

The town we were heading for was Haworth, where the Bronte family was raised by their preacher father in the Parsonage and from where they wrote their various bleak tales of the Yorkshire moors, sultry relationships and all things Heathcliff and Wuthering.

The sun and tourists were out and in good form on the day as you can see from the shots.

There must have been some American tour company selling discount Bronte tickets and that, coupled with a holiday special Steam Train running to the town made the usually quiet, cold ad wet streets take on a totally carnival feel.

Still it is always great to get into the village shops and seek out a tasty morsel and a good lunch. I didn't notice until I posted the photo that the White Lion pub we chose to eat in sported my surname boldly on it's frontage.... strange thing that.

It was a good day out, a leisurely stroll to the top of Penistone Hill with all the dog walkers, http://www.walkingenglishman.com/westyorkshire04.htm and then through Father Bronte's churchyard and into the town main street. The photos here will give an idea of the place but I do think a less crowded day would provide a greater sense of place. There are many web sites about Haworth but the photos and words in the one I have slotted in just above are quite good.

Partly due to the number of people in the town, Gail's desire leave in time to have a Pimms on the lawn when we got home, and our mutual lack of Brontemania, we didn't feel like queuing and paying to look at where Charlotte et al slept, washed or fidgeted in church. It is a lovely town regardless of that and, heck, we have to be able to say we have been there don't we? I mean Yorkshire wouldn't be Yorkshire without the Bronte stories.

In this snap Gail took I was caught looking at cellar lights set into the pavement but the photo doesn't seem to catch what I saw in them on the day. They did look much more colourful and sparkley. Honest.