Sunday service at Bradford Cathedral, private guided tour of the Brontë Birthplace in Thornton, end of the good weather, staying with Phil and Kath in Keighley, Bolton Abbey and the Strid revisited, my M&S fix, school reunion at Betty's in Ilkley, discovering Kirby Lonsdale and Ruskin's view and other stories of the week.

 Keighley, Sunday 7th June, 2026

With Eladio at The Strid on Tuesday, one of the most dangerous yet beautiful stretches of water in the UK. It is a place I always want to come back to .

Good morning all from Keighley in West Yorkshire on our last day here. We  have been staying with our great friends, Kathy who I was at St. Joseph's College with and her lovely husband Phil. Time is flying past, too fast.

Today would have been my mother's birthday. Oh, how she has been in my thoughts this week. Nearly everywhere I go I am reminded of her, my father and my brother George. It is like being an orphan here. She died in 1999, nearly 25 years ago. How she would have loved to read the tales of our time in Yorkshire and oh how I would have loved to be with here here. There may be no flea market, no C&A, nor Brown and Muffs and she would have been upset to see the house so forlorn with its overgrown garden but she, like myself, would have been happy to be here and see so many familiar places. In a way, in Yorkshire I have come home to my childhood which generally was a happy one. Love you Mummy and have carried you in my heart since the day you died. 

Last Sunday we were still in Bradford  at the Midland Hotel and had more interesting things on our progamme to report on in today's blog post. 

We had breakfast in the restaurant which is not particularly good unless you like a full English which  Eladio does. What I did love though was the staircase as you come out of the restaurant. 

The ornate staircase at The Midland Hotel in Bradford. 

We were soon ready for the day and first on the agenda was attending the Sunday service at Bradford Cathedral. I have many memories there, especially when our Vicar, The Very Revd. Brandon Jackson was the Dean. You may not know that he came out to Spain to marry us. My most recent memory, of course, was when I organised my father's funeral there in May 2022. What a wonderful sendoff that was. Going to church on a Sunday is a sort of ritual for me when I am in England. After all my grandfather was a Vicar of the Anglican Church where I was confirmed, even though I was baptised in the Russian Orthodox Church (in Paris btw). Of all the churches, I prefer the Anglican services which are so much more interactive, in that the congregation takes part. The Cathedral had a programme we could follow that helped. I loved the whole service and felt so at home and in harmony last Sunday at the Cathedral. I even partook of Communion and so eager was I, that I went up to receive the bread and the wine too early. Imagine my shame. In the Catholic Church in Spain no wine is given which for me takes the spirit out of such a solemn moment. Mass in Spain is so boring compared. The best part on Sunday was when we sang one of my favourite hymns, Immortal Invisible, God only wise. Wow, that took me back  in time in a good way.

Attending the Sunday service at Bradford Cathedral last Sunday

It was a good start to the day. Upon leaving and after shaking hands with the Dean, I ordered an Uber to our next destination. It was there in less than 5 minutes. We had a date with my friend Joanne, who was once my Airbnb guest and helped me with my father's book. Joanne who lives in Lancashire and was a teacher of French and Spanish is a Brontë enthusiast and has been part of the team that restored the house where Charlotte, Branwell, Emily and Anne were born in Thornton, a neighbourhood of Bradford. They bought the Regency house through crowd funding and restored it with more funding from the Town Hall when Bradford was one year away from being the Cultural Capital of the UK. It was opened formally by Queen Camilla last year and Joanne was the person who organised the event. I had last seen my friend on the occasion of my father's funeral at the Cathedral so it was great to see her again. She welcomed us with open arms and gave us a private guided tour of the house in Spanish and in English and what a marvel it is.  Joanne explained that the Brontës lived there with all 6 of their children and that their time there was a happy one before they moved to Haworth after which they all died such tragic deaths. If you have seen the Parsonage in Haworth, then you must also visit the Brontë Birthplace in Thornton. You can even book the girls, Charlotte, Emily and Anne's bedrooms on Airbnb or Booking. This is definitely the top cultural attraction of Bradford and I was glad to have gone. The visit was fascinating. So, thanks dear Joanne.  Here are some pics to remember our visit.

Well worth the visit. The Brontë Birthplace in Thornton, Bradford 

We got VIP treatment and came away bursting with knowledge about the house and the family. But hunger called and Joanne was on duty till the middle of the afternoon so I ordered another Uber. It took us to Darley Street Market where we had hoped to have lunch but the place was  a bit dead. In the end we went into the first pub we saw, The Vault opposite The Wool  Exchange and only satisfied our hunger as the lunch was nothing to write home about. I had hoped for  a Sunday roast but would have to wait for that.

Before heading back to the hotel, we had a quick look in Waterstones, the bookshop, which is their most beautiful store in the UK. I remember it housing the flea market my mother would patronise every week for years buying me all sorts of antique home ware, especially silver plated spoons. Later when the bookshop was opened, I would go there with my father and he would always pay for any choice of book I wanted. What a wonderful father I had.

Waterstones in Bradford which is housed in the old Wool Exchange

After 4 days in Yorkshire we had hardly eaten any fruit and were dying for some. We found fruit at a small Sainsbury's where we bought British strawberries - the best in the world - and mangoes and nectarines. We arrived back in our pokey but comfortable little room to devour the strawberries between us and generally put our feet up after another packed day. And what a wonderful one it was.

Monday came and the good weather was over. From then on it would rain on and off until our departure and we hadn't brought enough warm clothes. M&S would soon remedy that when I could to get to one. We had our last breakfast at The Midland and then it was time to go. The next stage of our trip to Yorkshire was to stay with our dear friends Phil and Kathy in Keighley. We could have got an Uber or a train but decided on the Bradford Keighley bus, a route I knew very well from my youth as the 662 goes past Heaton Grove. The bus was the easiest choice as the stop was on Cheapside directly across the way from the hotel. So we sat with our suitcases and the odd bag waiting for the bus and I had to have a photo of Eladio.

At the bus stop across the road from The Midland with all our luggage waiting for the 662 bus to Keighley

The bus would drive along the Manningham Lane route which meant I would have a last look at Lister Park, Bradford Grammar School and of course Heaton Grove. I also pointed out Cunliffe Road to Eladio, the steep road leading down to our old school, the Catholic Grammar known as St. Joseph's College. I wonder how many times I went up and down that road to and back from school?  I knew the rest of the route too and pointed out places to Eladio such as my friend Brenda's house on the corner of Redburn Drive and now a dental practice,  the chip shop which no longer exists where I had a part time job and used to give generous portions to friends, past Shipley and St. Peter's Church where I used to go to the guides when Brandon Jackson was the vicar there. We went past more familiar places to  me such as Nab Lane, the old Bankfield which is like a modern Hilton today, then on to Bingley where my father used to teach at Night School at Beckfoot college. I remember both my parents giving language lessons at night 2 or 3 times a week to enhance their salaries. It must have been difficult.

Soon we were in Keighley where our friends were waiting for us at the train station. They were looking tanned after their recent holiday in their beloved Salcombe in Devon. We must go one day.

We soon settled into their beautiful 4 story Victorian home which 3 years ago got completely flooded and had to be made over from the beginning again. It took 18 months to do while they lived in rented accommodation. The whole thing was a nightmare for them but on the bright side now everything is new and pristine and in exactly the same style it was before. So it is looking stunning. Besides, our friends, have exquisite taste and the place is wonderful.

We have been staying at Phil and Kathy's gorgeous Victorian House. I love their English country garden with the views of the Keighley Valley. We feel completely at home here

Our hosts offered us tea as one does in England. My husband drank his out of politeness as he has never understood the British passion for tea all day long. We chilled out that day and Kathy and I chin wagged all the time too which amused our husbands. We laughed a lot and it was pure therapy for me. I am starved of a proper social life where we live in Madrid so it is wonderful to be able to talk English to friends here and anyone I speak to.

Lovely to be back at Phil and Kathy's house and to be staying with them. 

Phil made a lovely roast chicken - he is quite the chef - and I ate more than my body needed and couldn't face any  food until breakfast the next day.

The next day was Tuesday and we had booked a table for an early lunch at The Craven Arms in Appletreewick in the Dales where I used to camp when I was in the Girl Guides. After our lunch we aimed to visit one of my favourite places on earth: Bolton Abbey. It's unbelievable but my friend Kathy who has lived in Keighley all her life has never been there. She was in for a treat if it didn't rain and luck had it, it didn't.

We had left early and had plenty of time so first we stopped at Skipton to pick some things up from M&S and Boots where I went to town. I got my first fix of M&S which is probably the primary British thing I miss in Spain.

Soon we were on our way to the Dales and got to the pub early. It was drizzling and cold and again I wished I had brought warmer clothes. Here are a couple of photos of the 16th century pub and the surrounding Dales full of grazing fields.

The Craven Arms and the peaceful surrounding area

By then I had quite a few boxes ticked of my top things to do in Yorkshire: curry in Bradford, fish and chips, my old house, my parents' grave, a walk in Lister Park, a trip to Ilkley for lunch at Betty's,  a trip to the big M&S in Pudsey and now the Dales and a pub lunch and finally a visit to one of my favourite places in Yorkshire; Bolton Abbey and The Strid. 

It rained in the morning but the sun came out just as we reached Bolton Abbey. Founded in 1154 as a Priory it belonged to the Augustinian Order. The monks were very devoted to local life but when Henry VIII's dissolution came along after breaking up Protestant orders it was closed by the King in 1539. The abbey as such was never restored but most of the church is still there. Today the 30.000 acre estate is the Duke of Devonshire's private Yorkshire residence. As a child and teenager I went many times and always by bus. I especially loved crossing the stepping stones which,  unfortunately, were covered by torrential water that day. Here are some pics of our visit. I think I go every time I come to Yorkshire. 

Bolton Abbey in all its splendour

From there we drove to the main entrance to the Strid River which is quite a long and steep walk down to that dangerous part of the River Wharfe. I have been countless times  in my youth and adulthood and my brother George frightened my mother several times when he jumped over it from the rocks, a very dangerous thing to do. It is a lugubrious place; dark, gloomy, yet so beautiful and fascinating to watch. The danger lies in the undercurrent and the pot holes that can suck you in. Many lives have been claimed in it and thereby lies its macabre fascination. Yet it  is a stunning peace of geography. I have chosen a photo of the two of us there taken by a lone Scottish visitor for this week's feature photo.

The good weather held all through our visit of the Abbey and The Strid and we didn't leave till nearly 6 pm. We came home to rest, do some washing - thanks Kathy, after which we had a marvelous M+S cold dinner from the food I had bought in the morning. There would still be enough left for the next day.

The next day was already Wednesday 3rd, the day we planned to spend time at the big M&S in Pudsey as it looked like it would rain all day. That's where I would get my real fix of Marks and Spencer, my favourite shop in the UK and the British institution I miss most in Spain. It started off with coffee and a tiny Bakewell tart in the cafe and then I went on the rampage; well not quite. I got two outfits for the kids, some underwear for Olivia, a white t-shirt for my self, the liquid hand soap replacement for the Calm variety for the girls and myself. Ah and I also got  a fleece because the English weather requires me to wear warmer clothes of which I had brought very few. Then to the men's department for Eladio who generally hates shopping for clothes but that day  went along with it quite placidly. I got him some shorts, a white top and 3 easy to iron white shirts with a view to our road trips. Later I realised I had bought them short sleeved so promptly ordered them online with long sleeves as we couldn't go back. Lastly  we went into the Food Store, my favourite place and got bits and bobs for the coming days. I had to have a photo of my Marks and Spencer moment to record here. This is it:

My M&S fix at the big store in Pudsey on Wednesday

We came home to have more of the M&S food I bought and then, believe it or not, the rain went away and the sun came out. That meant I could sit in Phil and Kath's pretty garden. Kathy joined me and I got this lovely picture of my dear friend.

Dear Kathy looking lovely in her garden full of flowers

The rest of the day was spent uneventfully except for a call from Tana to say the a/c in one of the rooms wasn't working and the guests were not happy. We had to give them a fan and call the insurance company who said we weren't covered. Thankfully, I found a man who did the job the next day. Suzy was back from her own Road trip in the new car to see a friend in Murcia and I hoped she was well. The worry never goes away.

We had more M&S leftovers for dinner and put our feet up until it was time for bed. I slept quite well that night. 

Thursday came, the day of our St.Joseph's College reunion brunch at Betty's in  Ilkley (again). I was really looking forward to seeing Geraldine, Maureen, Cathy and Trish. It would be a lovely girly reunion. Eladio and Phil were coming along too but would be sitting separately.  

It was a very rainy day and cold too. I have been so cold in England. I think the foremost benefit of living in Spain is having good weather with sunshine nearly all year round. English summers are strange. You never know what the weather will be like but almost all my compatriots wear summer clothes because of the season, not because it is warm. Thus you see scantily dressed people when the maximum temperature is about 14c while in  Spain with 14c, we all have the heating on and wear winter clothes. As I write now my fingers  are freezing and I am wearing 4 layers of clothes including my coat indoors! Then when it is really hot the English go mad and remove as much clothing as possible and sit in the sun. Men often go bare from the waist upwards and walk on the streets as if they were on a beach. I saw a sign at a pub in Bradford which said "no shirt, no pint". Whereas, when it is extremely hot in Spain, people avoid direct sunlight, stay at home with the air conditioning on and only go out in the evening. It will be quite a shock when we go home next Saturday to 35ºc. That's hot but I prefer it to 14ºc and rain in England. Annoyingly, I have just read that a new heatwave will hit England the day of our departure. Not fair but despite the weather I have still enjoyed our stay so much.

It was raining in Ilkley that morning so it was lovely to be inside Betty's which, thankfully, was warm. Our brunch reunion was such fun and a lovely culinary experience. All my friends went for a savoury dish while I chose the pastry and pikelet selection. It consisted of a croissant, a pain au chocolat and two pikelets. I had never heard of the latter which are basically a very thin crumpet or muffin with butter; quite delicious.

My breakfast choice at Betty's on Thursday which I couldn't finish of course

Eladio took the group photo to remember our reunion and to post here. This was us at Betty's this week.

The St. Joseph's College reunion brunch at Betty's on Thursday. From left to right: Kathy, Maureen, me, Trish, Catherine and Geraldine. I think we look quite good for our age don't you?

Before we said our goodbyes, Maureen took me across the road to the little park where the bandstand is to show me her parents' remembrance bench; such a lovely tribute to her parents who used to go to Betty's once a week. I wish we did things like that in Spain to remember our loved ones. Here we are together on it.

With Geraldine on her parents' bench in Ilkley across the way from Betty's where they used to go every week. 

Geraldine's parents are buried in the same cemetery as mine; "Charlestown" in Baildon and when she goes to take them flowers, she always puts some on Mummy and Daddy's. It always warms my heart when she  does so. 

Soon it was time to leave and say our goodbyes except that I stayed behind to buy a Betty's hamper as a thank you gift to Simon and Gill for hosting us for the last part of our stay in Yorkshire.

Kathy and Phil wanted to go to Booths, a very exclusive supermarket with 25 branches and dubbed The Waitrose of the North. I have to say it is extremely good. We went home after that as it was pouring it down and Phil and Kath had to prepare the evening meal to which they had invited Sam, Kath's youngest, his 11 year old son Freddy, his partner Ela and her 5 year old son Jasper. I only wished that Elliot and Juliet had been there to play with them. Phil turned his kitchen into a pizza parlour and was on his feet from about 5 pm to 10pm which is not good for his sprained ankle. We had such a good time we forgot to take photos. Kathy has 4 strapping sons, Joseph, Tom, William and Sam. I had met Tom and William and now I know Sam, a great chap, and am only missing Joseph. We had a grand time together and laughed a lot.

Friday came and it looked like the weather was a bit better. We took quite a while to choose where to go that day. In the end we drove to Settle and then on to Kirby Lonsdale. My father loved Settle and we do too but Kirby Lonsdale was to be a new place for us. I commented to Kathy that I always go back to the same places and that is was great to have enough time to explore new ones. The only downside is that Kirby is in Cumbria, not in Yorkshire, haha. It is in between the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District and we were in for a treat. We only stopped in Settle for a coffee and were soon on our way to Kirby Lonsdale described as "a historic, picture-perfect market town located in Westmorland and Furness district of Cumbria. It is famously situated in the Lune Valley, serving as a scenic gateway right on the border of three counties: Cumbria, Lancashire and North Yorkshire". We absolutely loved it as it is indeed picture perfect. It was lunchtime so first on the programme was The Sun Inn, a 17th century coaching inn on Market Street which we loved too. 

Our friends then took us to a magical place that was new to us. They walked us through the grounds of the 12th Century Norman Church of St. Mary's which would lead us to Ruskin's View which we had never heard of, a beautiful, beautiful spot.

St. Mary's church grounds which lead to Ruskin's View

Picture perfect is the right description. Soon we were walking towards Ruskin's View so let me tell you about it. "Ruskin's view is a famous panoramic viewpoint in Kirby Lonsdale that overlooks the River Lune and Valley". Painted by Turner in 1822, "it gained its legendary name after the prominent Victorian art critic John Ruskin visited the spot in 1875 and declared it to be one of the loveliest views in England, therefore the world". We were in for a treat I have to say as we saw it on a sunny day. Here are some snapshots to remember this lovely viewpoint that could easily become one of my happy places.

At Ruskin's view - according to the 19th century art critic, one of the loveliest views in England. I can only agree with him. 

We walked back through the picture postcard town and spied a beautiful pony and trap which I had to take a photo of. Its driver tied it to a lamp post and promptly went into the Cheeky Fox pub probably for a pint. 

The pony and trap we saw in Kirkby Lonsdale on Friday.

The pony and trap just enhanced the beauty of lovely Kirby Lonsdale. What a pretty sight that was too. I wonder if Ruskin would agree. Probably not. As it happens, my friend Joanne had been to KL with her friends from the Belgian Brontë Society on Tuesday. They went to see the Royal Hotel where Branwell Brontë spent the night on NYE in 1839 in "a riotous drinking session". She added "there is always a Brontë connection". Fascinating.

Before heading home, we stopped at another Booths supermarket for a few provisions. It is very good but not a patch on M&S food halls. I must go again before we leave next Saturday.

We spent a quite evening at home with our friends in their lovely and newly restored Victorian house in Keighley. It had to be renovated from top to bottom after a dreadful flood about 3 years ago which left them homeless for 18 months. They went through a terrible ordeal which we listened to in detail with our eyes boggling at what they underwent. Thank God it is over and all is well and their house looks fantastic.

Our last day with Kathy and Phil was yesterday, Saturday, another rainy day which I could never get used to. Phile had a dental appointment so we went into town too. Keighley city centre is not a nice place but I liked the Italian cafe she took us to where I tried to speak a little Italian to the girl who served us coffee and who is from Venice. Who on earth would leave Venice to come and live in Keighley???

I had a long video call with my dearest friend Amanda that afternoon after she had told us that, sadly, they would not be able to join us for the last part of our stay here. We had planned to stay at her brother Simon's for part of the time as well as 2 nights in the Dales with friends from our school days who were coming specially. She has terrible back pain and must have an MRI this week and was advised not to travel. When we heard that we didn't quite know what to do. But dear Simon and his lovely wife Gill, insisted we stick to our plans and go to their house in Sowerby Bridge today. Eladio suggested going back to The Midland but I wasn't for it. Thus the last part of our time in Yorkshire commences today and although I am sure we will have a good time, we will all be missing Amanda and Andy. 

Yesterday ended with a lovely evening meal prepared by our friends, an English staple: bangers and mash. They have been such good hosts. Thank you for everything Phil and Kath.

Today is Sunday and I must pack again. We feel a little like cuckoos staying in other birds' nests but then again it is wonderful to spend time with friends in my beloved Yorkshire.

Meanwhile, back home in Spain, Pope Leo XIV has begun his first papal visit in Europe, if you don't count Italy, and I am following it with interest. He will be there for 6 days, in Madrid, Barcelona and the Canary Islands. Spain is no longer an officially Catholic country and President Sánchez is proud to say his is an atheist. However, this papal visit will help to shift attention from all the political corruption scandals and give him praise for his stand against Israel, Trump and his support of immigrants - up to 1 million undocumented immigrants are receiving the right to residency. He is not Pope Francis, my hero, but I was happy to hear he will meet victims of sexual abuse at the hands of the church, the poor and needy as well as immigrants who have risked their lives to reach Spain in the Canaries. I am not into the pomp but am interested to follow the coverage of this historic visit.

Now my friends, I have come to the end of the tales of this week. I am not quite on the high I was last Sunday for various reasons but happy to be here.

I will love you and leave you until next Sunday when we will be back in Madrid to the heat of course.

All the best,

Masha.

c

c

Our new Volkswagen T-Roc unveiled, a dream come true for Elliot and Juliet, flying to Paris and going up the Eiffel Tower. Coming alive in my beloved Yorkshire, staying at the Midland Hotel in Bradford, former wool capital of the world and the city of my youth, visit to Saltaire, my parents grave, the story of 6 Heaton Grove, my house for many years, lunch at Betty's in Ilkley and other stories of the week.

The Midland Hotel, Bradford, West Yorkshire, Sunday 31st May 2026.

Eladio and I yesterday walking in Lister Park near our old house 6 Heaton Grove on Manningham Lane. 

Good morning friends and readers.

Well here I am in Bradford, the town of my youth where I lived from 1964 until I left for Spain to live with  Eladio in 1981. I hated Bradford as a child. It was a very industrial, dark and ugly place except for a few saving graces such as the iconic Town Hall, the Cathedral, St. George's Hall and The Wool Exchange.  However, the county itself, Yorkshire, is known as "God's own country" and that it is if you visit the countryside; the famous Dales but also the Moors. Bradford may be ugly and it still is today but some of the surrounding towns are fabulous such as Ilkley or Harrogate and if you go further afield, York, once the county capital.This is a trip down memory lane as I haven't been back since November 2021 which is too long. My soul needs to go back to its roots.

But let me start at the beginning, to Last Sunday. It was 24th May and my school friend Kathy's birthday. It was also pay day as my pension is always paid on 24th, whatever day of the week it falls on. I always look forward to the 24th of the month and reflect on how much I deserve a maximum pension after working so hard for 40 years. 

It was a quiet day. Suzy was at work and we went out for a coffee. It was that day we realised they had removed the dustbin from our street which was right across the road from our house. Slowly we realised that all the dustbins had been removed and replaced with new ones which means we can finally recycle. However, we also saw that there are very few of them. The nearest ones to our house are about 750m away which means we have to take our rubbish  by car. That has to be sorted and soon. 

I got an under priced offer that day, the second one since publishing the property in Asturias. This one was from a Dutchman who seemed keen on the house but no way were we going to accept his offer. We are in no rush and there is always time to put the price down; but not for the moment. And, if we don't get the asking price or near it, we shall probably halt the sale until prices increase even more in a few years time.  On the bright side many local agencies are interested and have taken their own photos and published the house. I rather like this one  published on Friday. 

It was such a hot day as every day has been this week. The UK had a heatwave too this week but unfortunately we only caught the end of it and can look forward to mild temperatures but quite a lot of rain too. 

Oli came in the early evening after her birthday weekend away and picking up the kids. She came to clean the car as poor Elliot had been sick in it. Both Juliet and Elliot and later Miguel must have picked up a virus. I only hoped they would all be alright for their much awaited trip to Paris on Wednesday. It was the children's first time on an airplane which must have been very exciting for them. I remember my first was to Munich to stay with Aunty Masha when I was about 7 and have never forgotten it. 

Monday came and oh my it was busy. It started with a visit to the Inland Revenue people to get Eladio's new digital certificate. That turned out to be a flop and I have to get a new appointment now before we have to give in the final figures for this year's tax returns by the end of June. I hope we make it.

Tana did the rooms of all the weekend guests and left everything ready for the new ones coming. She does a sterling job. I made a lovely chicken and rice concoction after which I had a siesta. I didn't expect to sleep but I did and was late for the appointment with my psychologist. It was my second session and I ended up crying when I told her about the death of my Aunty Gloria and all her family on a plane which crashed at Rijeka airport in 1971. I suppose a psychologist's couch is the place to cry.  I was late too for my 5 pm mammogram and eco mammagram at the Quirón Hospital in Pozuelo. But it was ok. Even more ok was the fact that the doctor who did the ultra sound scan had already seen the results of the mammogram and pronounced my boobs as fine. He also gave me his verdict after the scan and again it was good news. How comforting it was to get the results immediately. I was impressed. I came home to tell my family that my boobs were good for another year. That is no joke as my mother died of breast cancer.

I came home too to find Suzy with the kids as Oli had gone to the hairdresser and Miguel had an upset stomach. We would see them again on Tuesday night for a final dinner together before both our trips and to christen the new car, hahaha. 

We had a very late arrival of  new guests that night, Mustafa and his wife who live in Stockholm. The latest check in time is 9pm and they obviously didn't read that or ignored it and arrived after 11pm. They were accompanied by a large Turkish family who live in the area. All was good until Mustafa messaged me to say there was no water and he was cross. What could I do at nearly midnight? Thankfully it came back nearly immediately. We then had to help him with the air con which frankly is not needed here at night yet, if you sleep with your windows open like we do. I had the feeling these guests who are new to Airbnb may prove troublesome but I hoped not.

Tuesday came and after about 4 hours sleep I was up at 6.15. After my coffee and a couple of fags I got down to making a salmorejo cold soup for that night's dinner. My Kenwood is playing up and Eladio had to help me.

Tuesday was the day we were picking up the new car, a Volkswagen T-Rok. After the war when my father was stationed in Germany, helping the country back on its feet and chasing Nazis, he drove a Volkswagen which must have been a Beetle. He never ever drove again but liked the experience. In  letters to his sister Gloria he referred to it as "the people's car" which is exactly what Volkswagen means - Volks (volks, think folk)  is people and wagen (wagon, think car) is car. Nice bit of trivia for you. He never could he have imagined just how sophisticated cars would become. 

Suzy came with us to the very sleek show room. We were not expecting what came next. Begoña, the lady who sold us the T-Roc took us through to a place where we saw our car covered in a black cloth. Before we had time to catch our breath. she was unveiling it as if we were in a car show. Wow. Here is a photo and a video of that particular moment which made us all very happy.

Our new car about to be unveiled

We have had lots of cars, some of them second hand, some of them my marvelous company cars - the Volvo, a few BMWs and my first company car was an Alfa Romeo. However, we have only ever bought three new cars of our own; the Lancia when the girls were small and my Mini when I left Yoigo. The new VW is our 3rd new car and it was Begoña who made it exciting with the unveiling moment.

She then went on to give us a thorough lesson as this car is very sophisticated. It does all sorts of things but what I like best is the digital dashboard which is like a great big tablet. The car goes a bit crazy when we change users but I am sorting that. Just look. 

The digital dashboard called Carplay and it is something to play with, hahaha. 

Suzy drove the Mini home and Eladio and I drove to the nearby Carrefour to get some salmon for dinner. He loved driving it and I took a photo of him after parking which it does effortlessly.

Eladio happy with his new car which he would take to bed with him if he could hahaha. 

Tuesday was a happy day all round.  I Facetimed with Amanda in the afternoon by the pool after which Suzy and I prepared a family dinner. Oli and family were coming as we won't see them until we get back from England. Even though we didn't have Tana to help, we put on a wonderful spread. Here is a photo of that happy dinner which was supposed to be the christening of the new car but who wanted to break a bottle of champagne on it? No one.

A happy family dinner before our departures and on the day we got the new car

On Wednesday morning Oli and family were up early to go the airport. She kept sending me photos of the different stages of their departure and once on the plane. The kids were excited of course. It will be something they will remember always. Here are some of the pics as I  followed their trip to Paris with great interest. 

Happy moments for Elliot and Juliet on their first flight ever which  was to Paris this week.

Oli was happy to be there to practice her French and Elliot wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. But when I asked my daughter if they had tickets,they didn't as they hadn't got round to it and were hoping to be able to go up  by queuing. I was really happy to hear that they only had to queue for 30 minutes. Here are some very good photos taken by Miguel who knows what he is doing because he is a professional cameraman. 

A dream come true for Elliot and Juliet flying to Paris and going up the Eiffel Tower

Meanwhile, I had to get ready for our own trip and started packing early in the morning. I also went to the nail salon for a manicure in the morning and to the hairdressers in the afternoon. I had to look good for England.

Thursday was D Day, the day of our departure and Suzy drove us to the airport in the new car which she will be enjoying in our absence. Our flight to Manchester was smooth where we were picked up by Ali in a pre-booked taxi. He drove us to The Midland Hotel in Bradford over the M62 and we had a great conversation. 

I have talked to so many people since I stepped on English soil and I feel as though I have come alive and out of hibernation after living in our quiet bubble at home with very little social interaction except with the family and guests. I am so happy to be in Yorkshire I want to talk to everyone. I remember my Russian born mother who never lived in the country she was conceived in telling me her experience of visiting it when the Iron Curtain fell. What made her most happy was to hear her native language spoken by everyone. I think that is what has happened to me this week. 

I have greeted and spoken to beggars (and even given one a cigarette), a blind man, Asian children in elaborate clothes, a man who had come to a Vampire event at the French Ballroom in our hotel, The Midland,  a Welsh worker with an Irish accent who has a house in Spain, several Pakistani taxi drivers, a young couple with a beautiful garden in Saltaire, an Italian waitress at the old Harry Ramsdens in Guiseley who studied Spanish at Milan University and even a man on a bus from Shipley who recognised me from my blog and told me my father had been his teacher at Bradford Grammar School! I have conversed with a couple from Ilkley who have a chocolate mini dachshund like Pippa called Sisi after the Empress,  to a Peruvian girl, Celia, who is a chef and whose partner is from Bradford and speaks perfect Spanish. I also had the privilege of greeting a group of beautiful Asian women dressed up for a wedding in the lift at the hotel. And on the train from Ilkley back to Bradford, we bumped into a Spanish girl called Susana from Madrid who was the ticket inspector. I just loved talking to everyone in English and as you see, in Spanish too, in my beloved Yorkshire. I have come alive.  

Cecilia Tupac Yupanqui, a Peruvian chef living in Yorkshire who I met at her food stall in Ilkley yesterday together with her English partner from Bradford.

Susana the ticket inspector from Móstoles in Madrid who we met on the train coming back from Ilkley yesterday

A beautiful group of Asian people dressed for a wedding who I met in the lift at our hotel, the slowest in the world that I know of, hahaha. 

Now back to our programme.

We arrived at the once magnificent Midland Hotel which has seen better days but is still the best in town. It was built in 1890 by the Midland Railway and is right next to Forster Square Station. When I lived in Bradford I think I only stepped into this hotel once and only to have a drink at the bar. I was interested to read which famous guests have stayed here.  They include Laurel and Hardy, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, Sir Winston Churchill, PM Harold Wilson (who was from Huddersfield) as well as nearly all British PMs. The Yorkshire Post has an article online which tells more of the hotel's history: "In the second half of the 19th century Bradford reputedly had more millionaires per square mile than any other place on earth. As the textile boom  created ever increasing wealth, traders from far and wide flocked to the city to do business and many of them stayed at the Midland Hotel. In 1885 work began on a 115 bedroom showpiece hotel in Cheapside, next to the station, and during the golden age of steam  it was the most iconic railway hotel in the north of England. Its fine Victorian interior, which included ornate plaster work and glittering chandeliers in the French Ballroom,  was considered the equal of any in London." Wow. I knew Bradford was rich in the 19th century but not to such an extent. The Bradford today has lost its former glitter unfortunately. The hotel too but I still love it and so does Eladio. You should see the incredible ballrooms.

The Midland  Hotel is also across the road from my mother's branch of Barclay's Bank which I  remember so well from our Saturday morning shopping jaunts in Bradford. She would get cash from the bank before credit cards and holes in the wall existed and we would usually make a beeline for  C&A and then for a coffee at the Akropolis. 

Our room is small and pokey and miles from the lift but it is comfortable enough. I bet The Beatles, etc had a whole floor. 

Eladio outside the Midland Hotel just after we arrived

Bradford improves with good weather. So as soon as we were ready, we jauntered out into the sunshine to explore the city of my youth. 

It has changed a lot and most of the centre is now pedestrian precinct. We walked right past the beautiful Wool Exchange where my mother used to go to the flea market every week. 

The beautiful Wool Exchange in Bradford. 

Today it houses the most beautiful Waterstones in the UK. Right ahead is the ornate Town Hall which my mother always loved for its Venetian Gothic style. It was designed by architects Lockwood and Mawson and built in 1870 during the heyday of the Industrial Revolution when Bradford was the wool capital of the world. 

Bradford Town Hall 

The square it stands on is now called Centenary Square and is quite beautiful with all its fountains. I took a video with the atmosphere created by kids enjoying the water. This is it.

Bradford is probably the most ethnically diverse area in the UK. According to the 2021 City census there are 309.000 white British people and 236.000 people from other ethnic groups. Pakistanis make up the largest group with a population at the time of 140.000. When I was at St. Barnabas Primary School in the 60's I remember the first Indian boy in our school. At the time I suppose Bradford attracted Asian immigrants because of the wool industry which was practically over by then. But they stayed on and sometimes you are not sure whether you are in Islamabad or in Yorkshire. What a combination; those  incredible Victorian buildings built with magnificent Yorkshire stone and then shops selling Asian clothes and everything else in between. All the shops I knew are now gone. Today they are replaced with lots of awful Poundlands; no M&S, no Rawson Market nor Brown and Muffs. Times have changed but there is something about the city that is nostalgic for me. After all, I spent my youth here. We walked up and down streets which were really only familiar for their names: Kirkgate, Darley Street or Ive Gate. I do remember them being very steep. In the video I mention The Alhambra. Amazingly, Bradford does have one and of course it got its name from the Moorish castle in Granada.I remember going to a pantomime there and to see a Georgian ballet as a child and my mother hosting the dancers. On our way to dinner that night,  Eladio took this photo of me with the Alhambra in the  background, another of the city's iconic buildings.

In front of the Alhambra in Bradford

When we got tired, we walked back to the hotel for a rest. But soon we were hungry as the last food we had eaten were sandwiches at about noon. Bradford is the curry capital of the UK and we wanted a curry for dinner. I usually go to the Kashmir, the curry house of my youth but AI said the best in town was The International on Morley Street. It may have the fame these days but it's not a patch on the Kash as we used to call it. 

Bradford is the curry capital of the UK

We couldn't even eat half of what you see in the picture but of course couldn't take a doggy bag back to the hotel.  On the way home,  I offered Eladio a hair cut in this barber shop on Morley Street hahaha.

An exotic barber shop in Bradford

I slept quite well that night and we woke up to a new day, the first whole day of our trip to Yorkshire. Friday was ours for the choosing. It started with breakfast at the Midland and my husband enjoyed a "full English". 

Before walking out into the city, I showed Eladio the tiled walkway from the car park to the lobby. It has remained the same since the hotel was built and to quote my friend Joanne, is "atmospheric from the Victorian railway age". Indeed it is.

The old walkway into the hotel from the station is the same as when it was built in 1890

We had spied a signpost pointing to "Little Germany". I knew of its existence but had never visited it. Little Germany is a historic Bradford district with grand 19th-century Victorian Yorkshire stone wool warehouses. It was built by German textile merchants who transformed the area into a global textile trading hub after which Bradford became the wool capital of the world. Nearly all the houses on Heaton Grove where we lived were inhabited by rich German wool merchants, many of them of Jewish origin. Thus we were keen to visit this unique place. Here are some pictures of Little Germany which looks like time has stood still and has been used for film locations.

Little Germany in Bradford

My trainers were not comfortable so we went into The Broadway shopping centre on our way back where I got some soft and light, white Sketchers. I also got a couple of tops at H&M.

Next on the agenda was a short train ride to Saltaire. "Saltaire is a remarkably preserved Victorian model village near Bradford. Built by the wool magnate Sir Titus Salt between 1851 and 1871, it is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site famous for its Italianate architecture, Salts Mill, and the David Hockney art collection". I used to live a mile away when in the 60s and 70s it was still a working village and we didn't think anything of it. Today this remarkable model village is now a UNESCO heritage site. Sir Titus Salt built it so that the workers of his wool mill would be happy and healthy. Not only did he give them housing, he created a whole village with churches, a hospital, a library, a theatre, a park and anything they needed except for pubs as he was a teatotaller. Here are some photos.

Saltaire model village revisited

We have been there on many occasions and this time wanted to visit Robert's Park an oasis in the village in between the Leeds Liverpool Canal and the River Aire. I was gagging for a coffee and spotted a delightful place called The Boathouse and we didn't move from there enjoying the views, a rest and my coffee.

Relaxing in Roberts' Park in Saltaire. 

While we were in Saltaire, Oliva and family continued their visit to Paris. On Thursday they had been to Euro Disney and that day they saw more of beautiful Paris, the area round the Louvre and of course the Arc de Triomphe. Here are two great photos of they kids by the inverted Pyramid. 

Great photos of the kids by the inverted Pyramid next to the Louvre in Paris on Friday

Miguel sent me this one of Oli, Elliot and Juliet by the Arc de Triomphe where we had been last August, under a year ago. Isn't Paris wonderful?

Oli and the kids in Paris on Friday

Back to Yorkshire now. Our plans for Friday  apart from going to Saltaire, were to visit   my parents' grave in Charlestown Cemetery on Baildon Road and then go to Guiseley for fish and chips at the Wetherby Whale which used to be Harry Ramsdens and a place I went to often when I lived in the area. 

We took the train from Saltaire to Shipley where we bought flowers for the grave. On the Otley bus to the cemetery which no one seemed to know where it was, a man about my age approached me saying he recognised me from my blog!!  Called Ian and I am afraid I didn't catch his surname, he gobsmacked me when he said my father had been his French teacher at Bradford Grammar School in the 60's. He was my age and I only wish I had had more time to talk to him. What an amazing moment. I gave him a warm handshake and we got off the bus to cross the road to the cemetery. 

I knew the way very well to my parents' grave and was happy to see that Geraldine's flowers were still there. I added mine and Eladio helped and at that moment an awful thing happened which totally spoiled the visit and took away all the emotion. We both stepped in dog sh** right in front of the grave; me in my new white sneakers as well. We spent all the time we could rubbing the filth off our soles in the grass. Only then could we take a photo of the grave. I think it is the only time I haven't cried visiting my parents' tombstone. Here is the picture.

Visiting my parents' grave at Charlestown Cemetery in Baildon on Friday

No doubt my mother would have laughed. She once bought some plastic sh** which she placed on the steps of our porch which my father then tried to remove with a shovel. She loved the word and would often say "it's shitty. could be shittier". 

Next on the programme was a ride to Guisely to one of my old haunts, Harry Ramsdens famous fish and chip shop, now run by the Wetherby Whale and full of oldies like us, hahaha. There were no buses for an hour so we got an Uber, of course. We were soon at our destination, White Cross in Guiseley and I asked Eladio to take a photo for old times sake. This is it.

Wetherby Whale, formerly Harry Ramsdens fish and chip shop opened in 1928. 

We met the Italian waitress there who had studied Spanish. When she came to our table, she asked shyly whether my husband was Italian. She was nearly right and we all agreed he looks Latin and not British. Wait till my English friends see him in white jeans and a light pink shirt haha. British men used to dress elegantly but like Bradford that is on the decline. I prefer the way Italian and Spanish men dress. The Italian girl called Rosella remarked I looked Spanish too by the way I was dressed and said Eladio and I had the same body language. I suppose we do after being together for 46 years!  And here is the moment Eladio I were served huge portions of haddock and chips with mushy peas which we couldn't finish.

Our first fish and chip moment at White Cross Guisley in the former Harry Ramsdens, now the Wetherby Whale and nowhere near as good.

Eladio spoiled that moment too when he got ketchup on his pristine pink shirt which had to be washed too, along with our shoes, when we returned to the hotel. 

In any case, we enjoyed our meal after which we walked to the train station and caught the train back to Bradford to have our Spanish siesta. We eventually left the hotel at around 8.45 pm and made our way to the new Darley Street Market for some food, only to find it about to close. Of course, the English eat far earlier and we are used to eating later. The manager, Scott, a local chap with a Yorkshire mother and father who came from Hong Kong in the 60's to join the wool trade, helped us find somewhere else to eat and we had a fine conversation too. In the end we had dinner at the hotel in The Brasserie which was cheap and cheerful. I am sure The Beatles and Winston Churchill were fed better back in the day.

I slept ok that night. Saturday dawned and I decided it was the perfect day to visit our old house on 6 Heaton Grove after which we would take the train to Ilkley where I had booked a table for lunch at my beloved Betty's tearooms in that very post Yorkshire town. Betty's is synonymous with charm, warmth, elegance and divine food in a traditional and refined setting. It's just so English in a good way yet it was founded by a Swiss man in 1919, the year my father was born. He was called Frederick Belmont and you can read his story here. 

But first to our old house.  We took the Baildon bus across the road from The Midland and got off at Lister Park, the lung of Bradford, which we wanted to visit first. It is opposite my father's old school, Bradford Grammar which you could hardly see because of the lush trees at this time of year. We wandered into the park of my youth built by Sir. Titus Salt's great rival, Lord Masham, aka Sir Samuel Cunliffe Lister. Both were wool merchant millionaires but with different views. Salt was a philanthropist and Sutcliffe a slave driver.  The park is magnificent with a small lake I once ice skated on. It also has tennis courts where we used to play as a family, a huge play ground, a band stand, the Cartwright Hall Museum and art gallery , a botanical garden and in my day a Lido where I learned to swim. We walked round the lake full of ducks and a young Pakistani couple took some photos of us. They were very sweet and thanks to them I have a photo of the two of us which I have chosen as this week's feature photo. It was a happy moment of which there have been many this week, especially since our arrival here.

By the lake in Lister Park yesterday next to the statue of Peter Pan

We left the park via the Norman Arch entrance by Emm Lane and stopped just before at the huge statue of Sir. Titus Salt which I used to climb up on to sit on his knees, not knowing much about him when I was a child. It is rather ironic that Sutcliffe  should have a statue of his enemy in what was once his land.  Apparently, it was previously outside the Town Hall but got in the way of traffic and replaced in Lister Park. Whoever decided this, did not know his history. 

Eladio by the statue of Sir. Titus Salt, enemy of Sutcliffe Lister, at the entrance to the park  by Emm Lane 

From there we walked along Manningham Lane past one of our old pubs, The Turf, which is now an Asian restaurant. We soon came to Heaton Grove and I had to have a photo of the name of the street.

Our street

I knew the houses on this street had been occupied by rich German wool merchants and asked AI for more information. "The houses  built in the Manningham and Frizinghall area were highly desirable serene suburbs that became the residential hotspots for prosperous German textile familes such as Julius Delius, the father of the composer Frederick". AI even described the  house, "6 Heaton Grove.  "It is one of the largest properties on the grove. Built across four floors including a basement area designed for Victorian kitchen, it was built to accommodate a wealthy merchant family".  I think we inherited a house as it was originally built including the bathroom fixtures like the wonderful bathtub. I looked it up and AI describes it thus: "proper 1870's merchant's bath was typically an incredibly heavy, deep cast-iron roll-top but resting an ornate lion claw feet. That was exactly how the bathtub was. I was about 7 when I accompanied my mother to see the house and the Groppers, an elderly Jewish German couple who sold it to us,  wanted me to see how big the bath was.  This bath figured heavily in our lives. My mother would lie luxuriously in it while smoking and tossing the cigarette butts to the back of the bath. My father had one bath a week and it was always on a Sunday. It was like that in those days haha. I only wish that when my father sold the house in 2005 that we had transported it to Spain. But I am digressing. 

We reached the house which, like the hotel and the city has now lost its luster. I was gutted to see the new owners, a Pakistani family who has now bought the whole street, had torn down the beautiful stained glass Victorian garden house I used to love. Even the wooden gate was gone and the original sash windows.  No doubt the beautiful bath tub was similarly discarded as well as all the Victorian sinks in the bedrooms which, silly them, would be museum pieces today. Thus I have a particularly sad look on my face in the photos we took yesterday outside what was my home for many years.

Our old house on 6 Heaton Grove with so much history including my own, but now sadly in decline. 

After that rather nostalgic and sad visit, we set off on foot to Frizinghall train station to catch the train to Ilkley. We walked the same route I used to walk as a teenager on a Friday evening to the Black Swan pub we used to call The Mucky Duck. That, sadly, too, has gone and is now a curry house! But no one can take away the memories.

We stopped on the way in Shipley as the train was not for another hour and that was good for me as I got a sudden booking from a Danish family who will be staying at our apartment in Santa Pola for a week from tomorrow and I had to sort out their check in.  I really hope all goes well and I don't have to deal with something going wrong there while enjoying Yorkshire.

Soon we were in pretty Ilkley. In the sunshine it resembled life in Spain; people on the streets and sitting on cafe terraces drinking and eating. We got there at midday and had 2 hours to kill until our 2 pm reservation at Betty's. So we walked along the main street looking into shops; some of them charity shops and then on to the Riverside Park which  we always love

Riverside Park in Ilkley by the River Wharfe

When the time came, we walked along Brook Street again towards The Grove where Betty's is. Ilkley is famous for its Moor where my father used to take us when we were children and which I secretly hated climbing. He used to call me his "little Moors' girl" but I wasn't. Sorry Daddy. He adored Betty's too and would have loved our meal there yesterday. Eladio went for their fish and chips. Would you believe he often removes the batter and hardly touches the chips? He must be the only person in England to do so and I always find it funny.  I had already made up my mind I would be ordering afternoon tea. I shouldn't have but I could not resist the temptation. Here are two great photos of me, smiling and happy to be where I was with the man I love and drinking tea with sandwiches, a scone and little fondant cakes. Divine.

Pouring and drinking tea as it should be done at Betty's

My divine Afternoon Tea

Despite being on Mounjaro, I was nearly able to eat it all but would not have dinner. No way. If I lived in Ilkley I would probably not be able to fit into their front door,hahah. Once we had enjoyed our amazing experience, we walked out into the sunshine and lovely atmosphere in the street. This is the cafe from the outside.

Betty's from the outside

There was lots going on especially across the street where a band was playing 60's music and old fogies like us were sitting and watching. Others were queuing up at the ice cream van or buying things from market stalls. That is where we met the lovely Peruvian chef and her Bradford husband. 

We had about an hour to kill until our train was leaving. That's easy in Ilkley as I love the shops. I took Eladio into one  I thought was attractive called SeaSalt which is from Cornwall. Would you believe we both tried on striped tops and used the same changing room as only one was available? I got two Breton like striped tops and Eladio a lovely light blue and white striped polo shirt. I do love stripes, don't I hahaha? When we had finished our enjoyable shopping, it was time to catch the train back to Bradford. That was where we encountered the young woman from Madrid who was the ticket inspector. We have had some lovely encounters this week and there are more to come. So watch this space. 

Once back at our hotel and in our pokey but comfortable little room I downloaded all my photos and began the long job of writing today's blog post. I have had so much to tell and I hope I haven't bored you with all the detail. 

Today is Sunday and we have our next encounter this morning. It is with my dear friend Joanne a teacher of French and Spanish from Lancashire who is passionate about the Bronte family, very active with the association and very knowledgeable too.  She was my Airbnb guest in January 2019 and we soon became fast friends. Dear Joanne helped me a lot with my father's book and we have remained in contact ever since. The last time I saw her was here in Bradford when she came to my father's funeral with her daughter Elisa. And, by the way, they stayed at The Midland too. Joanne is one of the founders or starters of the project to turn the original Bronte home where the children were born into a museum a bit like the Parsonage in Haworth. It is in Thornton in Bradford.  Called the Bronte Birthplace, she will be our guide today in English and in Spanish and we shall be having lunch together. Isn't that wonderful? Wonderful too is that tomorrow we shall be going to stay with our great friends, Kathy and Phil at their beautiful Victorian Yorkshire home outside Keighley. I have so much to look forward to and want to savour every moment of my time in God's own country. 

You will hear all about it in next week's post. So cheers till then from me, so happy to be "home".

Masha