WONDERFUL MEMORIES – AND SOME NEW ONES

“Heathcliffe, its me, I’m Cathy

I’ve come home, I’m so cold” from the song “Wuthering Heights”, Kate Bush

The Yorkshire Village of Haworth and the distant moors

Emily Bronte died from consumption at the appallingly young age of 30 years. Self educated and home schooled by her father the Reverent Patrick Bronte she grew up in the parsonage at Haworth in Yorkshire where Patrick was curate. Emily’s famous work and only novel “Wuthering Heights” was published in 1847 under the name Ellis Bell. Even in those unenlightened times it was difficult for women to have works of fiction accepted for publication. The book very much describes Emily’s life on the Yorkshire Moors, the presence of which permeates all her writing and poetry. She roamed the moors daily with her novelist sisters Charlotte (Jane Eyre) and Anne (Agnes Grey).. Today, some 175 years later, “Wuthering Heights” is considered to be in the top few novels of all time. Number one on my list.

The wind was definitely wuthering when we arrived in the very pretty village of Haworth, near Leeds, although the warm sunshine across the moors set a pleasant tone. We were returning south from a visit to Scotland and had been given Haworth as a stopping point by friends who lived nearby. We were so pleased they did. Haworth is a gentle village of stone houses and cobbled streets set on the side of the Yorkshire Moors. It exudes Bronte country and it is not hard to imagine Cathy and Heathcliffe striding the windswept moorland and brush covered slopes. We spent two wonderful days there including walks, a visit to the. “Parsonage” (now Bronte museum) and a delightful catch-up with “the Leedsys” being Steve and Leanne and Nick and Nicola – the two Yorkshire couples we met on our Costa Rica trek. March on Together!

But first – how the journey begins.

We are in the fourth week of our UK and France tour. Some of you will know Scout and I worked for three years at Hatley Park near Cambridge then for seven years amongst the vines at Chateau Unang in Provence in the south of France from 2002 until 2012. These were wonderful years and this is our first return trip to try and catch up with old friends and visit past stamping grounds. We flew into London late July where we had two days of exploring Victoria Park and Hackney – a part of London unfamiliar to us. Thanks to my nephew Guy and his partner Emily who looked after us and kindly evacuated their bedroom for us. Very much appreciated.

Hatley Park and Cambridgeshire

Our first taste of English life began in June 2002 when we rocked up to the family home of Mickey and Daphne Astor to begin three very enjoyable years living in the Chauffer’s Cottage and working on the farming estate and in the Georgian Mansion at Hatley Park beside the feudal village of Hatley St. George. We had three years of English country life, village cricket and European travel. On one of our infrequent (yeah right) visits to the local Queen Adelaide pub we met our dear and very Irish friends Peter and Lisa both at the time working for Tescos. Some twelve years after our return down under they still live near the village of Wimpole and in true kindhearted Irish fashion once again opened their home to us. For those of you who have had the pleasure of taking a pint of warm English bitter or a glass of wine there, the lovely old Queen Adelaide is now a pizza restaurant. The beer garden out back is now housing. Times change, of course, but not always for the better. We have had a ball catching up with my old cricketing buddies Tim and Shaun, my wonderful old workmate Will and various farm workers. Sadly unbeknown to us Daphne Astor passed away a few weeks before our arrival and Mickey was in London but we spent some time at Hatley Park walking around familiar territory including seeing many of the mature oak and lime trees in the park that Will and I planted some 20 years ago. We haunted Cambridge and Grantchester, took a very nostalgic look at the Rupert Brooke pub (remember Sundays there Barb and Robin?) and toured and walked the countryside and public footpaths. Fond memories are the best.

But it was time to cross the channel and revisit the country that took our hearts – France. We negotiated Ryan Air from Stansted to Nimes – no improvement there – to be greeted by our dearest friend Fabrice. Coming soon – Villeneuve-les-Avignon and the heart of Provence.