Bringing my father home to Yorkshire. A return to my roots, staying in Haworth, back to 6 Heaton Grove, a visit to Ilkley and other tales of the week.

Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Sunday 1st May 2022. 

Sheer nostalgia and a feeling of coming home - outside our old house at 6 Heaton Grove, Bradford yesterday. My parents bought it in 1964 and my father lived there until 2005. What a happy home it was. 

Good morning all. Here I am writing to you from my beloved Yorkshire, from our sweet but rather too tiny cottage (Teddy Bear Cottage) in Haworth, that beautiful little Yorkshire village where the Brontë family lived.  I think the Brontës would still recognise the place. I do definitely as it has not changed in all the years I have been coming since I was a child living in Bradford. I am always pleased to see it so well kept, as if time has not passed by.  Those steep cobbled streets have no need to talk, they are living witness to times gone by when Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell lived here. Oh how they loved it and if you have been here, you will know why. I love the Parsonage but I also love the school their father built for local children and  where they taught, and the church where he preached. It always strikes me to remember how they all died so young and how he outlived them all. I can feel them all in the church and today for many reasons, I shall attend the Sunday Service there. I will have a lot to reflect on. 

It is to Yorkshire that we have come to bring my father home to his final resting place to fulfill his wishes to be buried with my mother.The local Bradford paper, The Telegraph and Argus published a marvelous article online last Sunday which filled my heart with joy. If only my father could have seen it. If he had, though, he would wonder what all the fuss was about. The fuss my friends, is that we are saying goodbye, not just to my wonderful 102 year old father, the remarkable teacher and phenomenal linguist, but also to one of the few WWII veterans left. For that alone he deserves all the tributes he will be paid next week.  I have a powerful feeling that I have come home too, returning to my roots and it is emotional in a very positive way. It's good to be back. 

Today is 1st May and my father would have been 103!! He died aged 102 in November last and I still miss him.  He loved birthdays as we all do in our  family and we always celebrated his in style. This is him on his last birthday, 1st May, 2021 looking quite good I think. I have my son-in-law, Miguel, to thank for this lovely photo. I still walk into his room and sort of expect to find him but it is empty and he is not there. His things are though and that comforts me. 

1st May 2021 - a year ago today my father celebrated his 102nd birthday. 

I don't know the real secret to his longevity - perhaps a mixture of good genes, good luck, moderate eating and drinking and a lot of walking. But it was not only this. He and I were the only members left of his family and I think that is why he hung on so long and why I never wanted to let him go. I had to though in the end and now, God willing, he will be reunited with my mother, my brother, his brother and sister Raymond and Gloria and his parents. If God is willing too, hopefully when my time comes, I will join them. Till then I have to live from my memories. But, I am not alone. I have my own family to comfort me. 

Last Sunday my mind was on all the preparations for his memorial events. It was a quiet day, except for a delightful afternoon with friends, Ana and Tomy and their two children, Mencía and Tomy. Ana and I were colleagues at Nokia and first met 20 years ago!!! We have tried to keep in touch over the years and largely managed it but had not seen each other since before the pandemic. Ana has  a very high powered job as a top corporate lawyer. In a way, she reminds me of me at her age - 50, globe trotting, attending meetings, etc and running a household with 2 adolescents. But I am 15 years older and have now passed that chapter of our lives which we told them was one of the best. It is but often everything is such a rush you don't stop to enjoy the moment. I realise that now that I am retired. We were invited for the Spanish equivalent of afternoon tea, "merienda" at their spanking new house in the leafy suburb of Pozuelo, Spain's richest town which is about 15 minutes from where we live.

We had such a good time talking, eating and catching up we didn't realise it was late when we looked at our watches and saw it was time to make our departure. My mother always told me never to overstay my welcome. It was nearly 9 pm but because it is light now in the evening, we hadn't realised. We said our goodbyes and agreed to a meal out together in the not too distant future. 

Monday came and I began to get excited; just 4 days until our departure for England which I have been planning for over a month. Wow. I had lots to do and got on with it but we also needed to fill the cupboards to make sure there were enough provisions for Lucy during our absence. We had coffee out on a balmy morning where the temperature reached over 20ºc. That is a lot more than here today in Yorkshire.

On Monday the Telegraph and Argus published the print version of the article about my father's memorial events. The lovely journalist who wrote it, Emma C, sent me the pdfs and a cousin sent me a photo of the paper itself.  I was amazed to see it was double spread. That is something; real recognition for a veteran. 

Monday's double spread about my father "War hero comes home for final resting place". I loved the headline.

When I lived in Bradford I always remember the "T&A" being delivered every afternoon to our house. My father was  a subscriber for 40 years. Never could we have imagined an article about him like this. 

The big news though that day did not come from Bradford but from Paris and New York. On Monday morning we learned who had won the French Presidential elections. It is to be Emmanuel Macron again and thankfully not Marine Le Pen. The news from the US was that the richest man in the world and owner of Tesla, Elon Musk, had bought Twitter for the staggering amount of over 40 billion dollars. I can only hope the purchase is for the greater good of this social media platform plagued with trolls and false accounts. 

At home Monday was spent quietly with the highlight being coffee at Alverán. If I was busy in the morning, I spent a lazy afternoon watching a great series, "Life after death", while my husband toiled in the garden.

Tuesday dawned and I woke up at the unearthly hour of 5.30 am.  I had a quiet day and went on my walk in the sun with Pippa. Eladio mowed the lawns and spent the whole morning doing it. The highlight of my afternoon was catching up with my dear friend Amanda who I will be seeing this week at all the memorial events for Daddy. Another highlight was hearing from my parents old colleagues. That day I got emails from T. Cross and M Holeman as well as from a former colleague of my father's from BGS.  I hadn't seen them for many many years. It's wonderful how my parents are reuniting me with their friends now, even if it is late in life. It sort of brings them back. All those memories. Wow. 

Another memory I want to relive is to visit Ruskington in Lincolnshire and see the house we lived in from 1960 to 1964. We moved there from Cambridge when my father got a job as a teacher of Russian at RAF Cranwell. That dream is going to come true when we go on Tuesday. Waiting for us outside our old house on 62 Rectory Road, will be Davd J, my father's pupil from way back (the 60's). He went on to be a teacher of languages himself and will be one of the "old boys" paying a tribute at the Memorial Service. I even wrote to the owners to see if they would let us visit inside. Once in Ruskington we shall also visit my maternal grandmother's grave, the church and the school if it is still standing. My most vivid memory in Ruskington was going to school for the first time. I was given a small blackboard and piece of chalk to start to learn to read and write. How quaint you must think. For the letter I dug out old photos of the house to prove we lived there and here are the two I sent copies of.

Our house - a bungalow - in Ruskington. On the left me on the gravel and George in the background

I was pleasantly surprised to receive an answer from the owners when I set foot on English ground. They are delighted we want to visit. I can't wait to see the house although I'm sure it's changed a lot. 

Wednesday came and it was just 2 days to our trip. I felt so excited and still had things to prepare. The painters came to paint "Felipe's room" which we refuse to call that. Finally that awful smell has gone. Another guest arrived that, Daniel, an architect who is from Argentina. That meant we had 3 people from Latin America under the same roof; quite a coincidence. He has come to Spain to look for a house.

I spent the morning on errands and stuff. I went to have the Order of Service printed, to pick up some prescriptions and to get money for our trip. I also had a lovely cup of coffee with 2 mini croissants at Manolo Bakes. As I got home I received a message from a lovely journalist from The Yorkshire Post who wants to do a story about the memorial events for my father. Ruby rang me at 13 and we had a long interview. She asked me some very profound questions and I hope my answers were good enough. The Yorkshire Post is one of the most prestigious regional papers. No doubt, my father would be astonished to appear there and would say "publicity, why? I wasn't a hero." That's what he said to me when on his 100th birthday his story was all over the news. But he was a hero. As a friend pointed out recently all WWII veterans were. He was also my own personal hero as you must have gathered by now. 

The highlight of Wednesday was lunch with Oli. I wanted to meet up before we left  to explain the programme of events this week in England and we hadn't had a chance. So what better than lunch together? My daughter looked spectacular. She had just left work, the TVE studios, and her hair and make up were professionally done. I asked her why as when she goes reporting outside the studio she does her own makeup. That day I learned that she also is on live from the programme studio.She never tells me when she is going to be on TV which is a bummer as I love to watch her. Little Juliet was there too and we enjoyed a great lunch with a really gourmet type menu of the day. We wouldn't see either Oli or Juliet again until we meet here. They are coming with Suzy on Thursday, just on time for the burial. It's going to be so emotional. It already feels it. 

It rained again in the afternoon and I spent the afternoon on various errands and also lazily watching that comedy drama series After Life. It's very funny at times and I don't normally do comedy.

I couldn't sleep that night and was awake at 2 in the morning and then I got up at 6.15. I think it was because I was so excited to be going to England again. If I didn't sleep well 2 nights before leaving I dreaded the night before. My mother would have called my state of mind "reisefieber". This translates into "travel fever" a term that doesn't exist in English. I definitely had a big bout. 

Thursday 28th April was my daughter Suzy's birthday. I can hardly believe she is now 38. Where have all the years gone? Happy birthday darling. 

Having the luxury of time, I spent most of the day packing. I also went to get the printed versions of the orders of service. That day the Cathedral finally sent me the link to the live streaming of the Memorial Service. My father could probably not fathom that it will be broadcast on YouTube for anyone to watch in any part of the world. 

The Image for the live streaming of my father's memorial service

This is the link. You can follow the service live next Friday and it will be available online for a further 2 weeks. 

When I sent the link to a former colleague who can't come because he lives in Cambridge, he praised me by saying: 

"It seems that all your plans are falling nicely into place and I am sure

your father and mother would be so proud of your initiative and planning

- no mean feat to be able to hold a Memorial Service in a Cathedral -

and so pleased that they will be together again in God's Own County" (Yorkshire, of course). 

How kind of him. It made me feel good.

Finally Friday 29th April came and we were up at 4.30. We were all ready, as you can see in the photo below, to take my dear father home.

Taking my father home

Everything went smoothly which I was grateful for as I  had been told there was chaos at Manchester Airport. We touched ground at about 9.45 local time. Here is Eladio coming down the steps of our Ryan Air plane. We hadn't flown since before Covid, 3 years ago. Now we were finally back in England. I was bringing my father home but I was also coming home. It felt so good. 

Landing in Manchester on Friday

As soon as my phone was on, I was flooded with emails which people had been writing while I was flying. I couldn't believe what I was reading. The Telegraph and Argus - the local Bradford paper - had put me in touch with the "Armed Forces Champion" of the Bradford Town Hall. Joanne had moved heaven and earth so that there would be official recognition for my father at the Memorial Service. There were emails from the Royal Navy to say they would be sending "uniformed presence" - what an honour and then an email which left me flabbergasted. This is the gist of it:

A deputy Lord Lieutenant is none other than Her Majesty The Queen's representative in a county. In Spain it would be the equivalent of a "delegado del gobierno", some one who makes arrangements for Royal visits and maintains close links with the armed forces. The Deputy Lord Lieutenant who will be attending my father's memorial service is David Pearson who actually lives in Haworth where we are staying. What greater honour I thought. It really is wonderful how people in England pay tribute to their veterans. My father would have been astonished. I was delighted as you can imagine. But oh, dear I would now have to change my homily.  This is the chap by the way in all his finery. Will he  be dressed like this at the service I wonder?

David Pearson, the Deputy Lieutenant of the West Yorkshire Lieutenancy

We arrived to great news and to brilliant sunshine which really was an added plus. What wasn't was getting the hired car. What a rigmarole. It took about 2 or 3 hours until we finally had one.

Our car

We then hit the road hesitantly. It is never easy to drive on the left and navigating your way out of Manchester Airport is not easy. We put the sat nav on for Haworth and instead of taking us over the M62 it took us over the moors all through small towns in Lancashire and on B Roads. All we could do was follow the instructions. It was getting late and we were hungry so stopped at a pub called The Beach in Littleborough, somewhere I had never heard of but it's beautiful. Set on the shore of Hollingworth Lake, this pub offered great grub. We went for the carvery and had our fill of roast beef and Yorkshire pud with all the trimmings. What a wonderful welcome meal in England.

Lunch in Littleborough

We then hit the road again and it took ages to reach Haworth which was supposedly only 20 miles away. Late in the afternoon we finally found our holiday cottage which I had booked on Sykes Cottages. Called Teddy Bear cottage this is it.  It's tiny but clean and pleasant. It's a typical Yorkshire stone "one up one down" terrace house on a road not as near the centre of Haworth as I would have wanted but it's fine for our stay here. It will be a challenge when the girls and Juliet come but we shall manage.

Our cottage

After settling in  - you should have seen us trying to get our huge suitcases up the terribly steep stairs. Only in England and in Holland do you find them so steep - we set off to find food. We found it at the new Co-Op in Haworth which is no great shakes but we got what we needed for a few days. 

We then drove into the village or tried to and parked outside on one of the main roads. Our aim was to walk in the centre, along those lovely cobbled streets where the Brontë sisters once walked. Haworth never disappoints, and neither does Haworth Church and the Brontë Parsonage. I was ecstatic to be back. 

Overjoyed to be back in Haworth and in Yorkshire

As a child I came here countless times and I never tire of this beautiful little Yorkshire village steeped in history. 

Happy to be back in Haworth

It had been a very long day for us and we were tired. We found our way back to the cottage after our stroll in the village and made a dinner from some of the food we had got at the Co-Op. We basically fell asleep after dinner which was washed down by some Prosecco the owner had left us in the fridge - very kind. Prosecco is very popular in the UK but I don't think I have ever drunk it until then.  As we took our first sips, we realised just why it is so popular. 

I didn't sleep  badly but woke up too early yesterday.  I was still on Spanish time and it was 6.30 am but 5.30 am in Haworth. That gave me time to adapt my homily to the new circumstances - the presence of the Royal Navy and the Deputy Lord Lieutenant.  I have to keep it short which isn't easy as there is so much to say. I had my dear friend Amanda to help with the proofreading and the shortening. I asked her to get it down to 850 from about 1100 and in the end went for 904 words which I think takes 6 minutes and is still probably too long. I hope people like it. I hope  too, that I don't tremble and cry while reading it. I'll let you know how I got on when I publish next week's blog post.

Our programme in the 12 days we are in England is packed but I kept the weekend and tomorrow just for ourselves so as to savour our time here and take it slowly as next week will be such a rush. Thus we could choose what to do on our first full day here yesterday. I could have chosen a thousand places of importance to me to visit but I had a calling. It was to visit our old house and our dear neighbour, Susan, who has lived next door at number 5 Heaton Grove for more than 70 years. She and her parents were the best neighbours one could wish for and every time I visit her I go back to the past. I had tried to call her to tell her we would be here but she never answered the phone. So yesterday morning we drove straight to her house from Haworth and parked outside our old house. It hasn't changed a bit from the outside but no doubt inside is another matter. The photo of me outside 6 Heaton Grove is the photo of the week. My parents bought it in 1964 when my father became a teacher at Bradford Grammar School which was a short walk from the house. I spent my youth there from 7 to when I left in 1981, one year after graduating. It was a huge 20 room Victorian house, yet only had one bathroom as was typical in those days. I loved it always. My father lived there for nearly 40 years until he sold it and came to live with us in 2005. It will always be our home. 

As Susan hadn't answered my phone calls, I wondered if she no longer lived there. But she was still there thank goodness and so sprightly for her age - 88. What a joy to see her and be invited into her beautiful home for tea and a chat. The chat ended up being a stay of about 3 hours, there was so much to catch up on. Her house is like a museum with the finest antiques and is spotlessly kept. I am amazed that she is the cleaner and has no help. I worry what will happen when she gets too old to look after it. 

Dear Susan, our neighbour of 40 years who is still going strong. 

When we moved in, I was 7 and she was 30. I was a child and she was younger than my daughters today. I was very happy to see her in great form. The main reason of our visit was to invite her to my father's burial and memorial service as she has to be there, as my father's oldest friend in Bradford. She was delighted to accept the invitation. I asked her if she wanted me to send her a taxi to which she replied she would drive there. Amazing! Thus we shall see her again.

We said our goodbyes, I took more photos of our house and we set off again. I chose Ilkley to visit next, that beautiful Yorkshire town of Ilkley Moor fame. It is also one of England's most beautiful towns and houses are not cheap there. If I ever wanted to live in England again, Ilkely would be a very desirable place to live.

Ilkley - with flowers everywhere

One of the reasons I love Ilkley is because it has  a Betty's Tea room, a tea room of the finest kind only to be found in Yorkshire. It's always a treat to go there. There are finer places in the world no doubt but Betty's is part of my childhood so it had to be included in this trip's programme. You can't book a table and must queue outside. I was quite happy to queue as it was a marvelous sunny day and the atmosphere in Ilkley was very cheerful.  When the sun shines in England all the people come out as if to enjoy every ray of sunshine as they don't know when it will be sunny again.

Queuing outside Betty's

We only had to wait about 20 minutes to get a table in that quaint oldie worldie tea room. It has wonderful food on offer but we always go for the same. Eladio chose fish and chips and I chose the irresistible afternoon tea. 

Lunch at Betty's in Ilkley yesterday was such a treat and also a trip down memory lane. 

Before we left I couldn't resist buying some of their goodies in the shop part of the cafe.  Lured by a pretty little park  opposite with so many flowers, benches and a band stand, as well as a huge magnolia tree in bloom, we wondered over to take photos. The spot was of such beauty I took many photos like this one of me on a bench with beautiful tulips behind me. Many of the benches are memorial ones to those we have lost - a wonderful English tradition. Later my school friend Geraldine told me there was one of her parents I think in that particular spot. If I had known I would have looked for it. It is my friend Geraldine who often puts flowers on my mother's grave at Charlestown Cemetery where her own parents are buried. It was dear Geraldine too who visited Susan in November to tell her of my father's passing away.  Thank you Geraldine for all your help and support. You are a good friend. 

A pretty little spot in Ilkley yesterday

We then strolled along the street. Everything seemed irresistible. I spied some very comfortable and smart trainer type shoes and decided to try them on. I was wearing my old Nikes which look like boats on my big and wide feet and badly needed replacing. 

My new trainers - Gabor rolling soft they are called

I tried them on and they fit like a glove. My feet are probably the worst part of my body as I have bunions and they are big and wide so it's difficult to find shoes that fit and are comfortable. When I tried these Gabor Rolling Soft trainers - a brand I had never heard of - they were so comfortable (and smart)  and I had to buy them.  When I was a child and my mother bought me shoes I would wear them immediately in the shoe shop. That is what I did yesterday. 

We then went to Boots, the chemist, where I needed to buy items I cannot find in Spain - clear shower hats and inter dental sticks. Before heading back to Haworth I persuaded Eladio to go down to the Riverside Parks which are so beautiful.  I saw magnolia in bloom everywhere yesterday in Ilkley and wondered why I don't see much magnolia in Spain.

There was magnolia in bloom everywhere yesterday in Ilkley

We weren't the only ones to choose the Riverside Park for a walk. Everyone and (especially his dog) was there. There were families, children - some of them bathing in the river, some riding bikes, children playing on slides and swings and  people dressed in all sorts of attire and many of them in short sleeves. I loved seeing all the dogs and stopped to stroke a small dachshund like Pippa. I asked the family if I could and they were happy to chat. The dog was called Franco. When I left them I commented that I live in Spain and that these days no one is called Franco there. That had them in hysterics; me too. We walked to the end where there is a lovely old bridge I remember from the last time I was in Ilkley.  A passerby offered to take a photo of the two of us. This is it; not the best but it captured the happy moment.

On the bridge over the river in Ilkley, the River Wharfe I think. 

We left at around 4.30 to come home to rest. I then turned to my PC to work on my words both at the burial and the Memorial service. I also surfed my Instagram where there was a comment on one of my photos from Daniel, an ex pupil of my father's but who I had never met. Coincidentally he happened to be in Haworth at that very moment.  I immediately wrote that he must come and see us and he did. It was quite a chance meeting. 

He turned up a short while later and we spent an hour and a half getting to know each other and of course talk about my father and his memories of him as his form teacher and teacher of French. He left BGS around the same time my father retired in 1983; a long time ago. It was a delight to meet Daniel. We follow each other on Facebook and on Instagram so meeting face to face here at the cottage was quite surreal but very very pleasant. He asked where his old teacher was and we laughed, telling him my father was in the car boot;  his urn being inside a plastic carrier bag. Daniel wanted to see "him" and he did. We took this rather irreverent photo to immortalise the moment which I have to say was more than funny. As my friend Kathy wrote later "you have do laugh don't you?". She also said her father was under her bed!  Oh how I laughed. It felt good and I'm sure Daddy won't mind. I think he too would find it funny. This is the moment. You are welcome to laugh as well my friends. There can be a funny side to most things in life I thought later. 

Daniel meeting his teacher yesterday. 

Unfortunately he won't be able to be at the Memorial events next week but at least I got the chance to meet him and he got the chance to "see" my father. 

It was dinner time when he left. We shouldn't have been hungry but we were. It's Yorkshire that gives you such an appetite. Later I watched an episode of Downtown which I had never seen for some reason. My dear husband, meanwhile, inspected the baby car seat to learn how to install it in the car for when Juliet comes. All this new baby paraphernalia is far too complicated.

On another topic and before I forget, let me tell you the outcome of my letter to the granddaughter of "Aunty Olga" - Olga Villiers that you may remember from last Sunday's blog post. Well, my dear friend and internet detective, Andy, found her daughter, Anne. He forwarded his email exchange. This was good news but Anne's reply was rather laconic as if she wasn't interested. That was rather disappointing after all our efforts.

Anyway, let me return to the present. Today is Sunday 1st May which in Spain is Mothers' Day, Labour Day all over the world and of course the date my father was born.  We look forward to another special day in Yorkshire. This morning and don't laugh, we are going to the Sunday service at Patrick Brontë's parish church. Then we shall meet our dear friends Phil and Kathy at The Fleece on Main Street. We haven't seen them since 2019 which has been too long and I know our reunion will be sweet and we shall laugh over a wonderful Sunday roast. We are going to the much recommended Hawthorn on Main Street which looks enticing. Nearly everything is enticing in God's Own Country IMO. 

Now I have reached the end of the stories for this week. I hope you enjoyed the read if you got as far as this. Cheers then my friends till next Sunday,

From a very happy woman in Yorkshire/ Masha