The North is dripping with history

13 11 2016

I subscribe to the print version of the BBC’s most excellent History Magazine. As is often the case with magazines, the letters page is usually quite entertaining and informative – if only for the occasional ill-informed vitriol from a reader. Being in one of the distant reaches of empire commonwealth, I receive the magazine a little later than most, but it’s a history magazine anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.

As I mentioned, the letters page was interesting, and one contributor was making the point that “collective memory” can be extremely localised. He recounted the history of the Leeds Dripping Riot of 1865 – an event I was totally unaware of, despite growing up less than 20 miles away (to be fair – significantly later than 1865, despite what my kids may think).

For those not educated in the culinary arts, “dripping” is the collected fat drippings from roast meat – particularly beef or pork. Though much less common now because it’s allegedly “not good for you”, the best tasting fish and chips of my youth were from shops who deep fried their offerings in beef dripping. As a youth, a quick snack at home would be a knife-full of dripping (collected over several sunday roasts) on a slice of white bread. A pinch of salt would just top off the snack and make sure you were hitting all the right food groups. :S

Dripping (Source: Wikipedia)

Dripping (Image source: Wikipedia)

It’s actually sold in Germany, if you go to places selling “authentic rustic food” and ask for Schweinshaxe, it’ll often come with a starter of crusty bread and a little pot of dripping.

The Yorkshire stuff – as illustrated in the Wikipedia image above – would be left to separate, and you’d get this meaty jelly at the bottom, under the thick crust of solid (at room temperature) fat. Anyway, there’s no argument that it is pretty hard (pun intended) on the arteries, but a wonderful taste sensation. It is also laden with class implications. Having read out the magazine letter to my dear wife, she commented about her family “not sinking to eating bread and dripping”. Being of English origin, and therefore not communicating often anyway, she’s still not realised I’m not talking to her. (I expect this to become more apparent as the month wears on.)

I jest of course, but the comment about sinking to eating bread and dripping was true enough. It remains one of the pointed North/South divide issues, though is making a slow comeback as we learn more about nutrition and the importance of fat in our diet. The Daily Mail valiantly tried to rehabilitate it a couple of years ago too.

Bread and dripping (Image source: Daily Mail)

Bread and dripping (Image source: Daily Mail)

So anyway – getting back to the point: I paraphrase the Wikipedia entry of the events…

In January 1865, Eliza Stafford was a cook employed by Henry Chorley, a well to do surgeon and local magistrate in Leeds, Yorkshire. He apparently discovered that Stafford had disposed of about 1kg of dripping to a local dressmaker and took umbrage and had her arrested. Being well connected, he pressed for her to be prosecuted for theft.

Stafford’s defence was that although she admitted disposing of the dripping, it was a perk of the job. (We’re not talking about stealing the meat remember… just the fatty waste that comes off it during cooking and which might simply be disposed of immediately today, without comment.) Chorley claimed that this was one of several similar incidents but that this was the only one he had any direct evidence of. The magistrates convicted Stafford of the theft and sentenced her to one month’s imprisonment in Armley Jail.

Armley Jail (Image source: Wikipedia)

Armley Jail, Leeds (Image source: Wikipedia)

The local populace were upset and many people considered the prosecution petty and the punishment harsh. Attention was also drawn to the circumstances of the trial which for reasons unexplained had been heard in private rather than in public as normal, and before magistrates known personally to Chorley. The protests culminated in a demonstration, estimated at being between 12,000 and 15,000 people, outside the prison on the Saturday before Stafford was due to be released. A smaller number of people, about 700, went on to protest outside Chorley’s house. Apart from some snowballs being thrown (how very English), these protests all passed off peacefully.

The riot itself occurred on the day of her release. She’d been let out earlier than scheduled and missed all the fun. The crowd, disappointed they’d missed her, largely dispersed but about a thousand people marched from the prison to Chorley’s house and threw stones that broke several windows in the house. The Chief Constable of Leeds, William Bell, and some police officers managed to form a cordon round the house and withstood several attempts by the protesters to break through to the house.

During lunch the numbers of people in the square increased as workers came to view the affair. (There was no telly in those days). The Mayor of Leeds, John Darnton Luccock, called for assistance from Bradford police and from the army at York. At 1 pm, lunch break over, many people left, and the police decided to try and clear the square. After issuing a notice ordering the crowd to disperse, the police charged and drove everyone out of Park Square. During the charge one man, George Hudson, was trampled and severely injured – injuries so severe that he subsequently died – and a number of men were arrested for “riotous conduct”. This effectively ended the riot and reinforced by the Bradford Police with two troops of the 8th Hussars from York on standby, the Leeds police prevented any further attempts at disturbance despite a sizable number of people assembling nearby in the evening and attempting to march upon Leeds Town Hall.

The men arrested were tried for riotous conduct but the magistrates took a lenient view and only one was imprisoned and then only for a week. The sentencing magistrate described the incident as “very silly excitement” and the other four defendants were bound over in the sum of £10. Henry Chorley died in 1878, of Eliza Stafford there is no subsequent history.

A Day in the Dales

24 01 2016

Just got back from a hectic week or so in the UK on business.

Most of my time was spent a stone’s throw from Heathrow at the Stockley Park HQ of Canon Europe. As I wandered between the two Canon offices in the business park, I realised that I’d actually visited the Apple offices there years before in a previous life. At the time they were pushing their server business to us as a reseller. Seems like another world… definitely pre-iPod!

On the Thursday I got to drive to Reigate, which was an experience. In the 15 or so years I’ve been away, it would seem that small town England has been designated as a car-park. Every place I visited was blighted with cars parked on both sides of the street, leaving the narrowest of channels for everything else. Cars, lorries and buses. These streets are essentially just tarmacked-over cart tracks. Add to that the ubiquitous roadworks and even the shortest of journeys can take a disproportionately long (and unpredictable) time. I didn’t mind though. I was in the great company of a Dutch colleague who shared my dubious sense of humour and the time passed quickly. I really enjoyed getting used to driving on the left again. In a manual car. A diesel no less. It behaves very differently to a petrol car and is unforgiving if you skip a gear on the way up. Not enough revs, it seems. Thankfully muscle memory still seems to operate even at my age, and I didn’t come close to making any potentially fatal errors of lane selection. Or stalling! I only came close to getting in the wrong side of the car once too. Conversely, since I got home I have tried depressing the non-existent clutch in my automatic several times. I have to say though, the electronic hand-brake was a bit of a bugger to get used to. Unlike our manual HR-V it doesn’t automatically engage when you come to a complete foot brake stop, so if you don’t apply it (like in the old days) your car rolls back. Great for perfect hill starts though. Not sure what happens if your battery goes flat when you’re parked on a hill though…

It was also great to see so much variety of cars on the road too. Things are so limited here in Canada with the huge pressure from the US manufacturers. I had a Citroën Picasso C4.

Citroën Picasso

Citroën Picasso

Everything was electronic – not just the hand-brake. I think the speedo was broken though. Surely diesel cars don’t do 90 mph do they? (145 km/hr in new money). The wipers came on when they felt the windscreen was a little moist. The headlights came on when they thought it was dark enough. Pretty much everything except the expected GPS. “SatNav” as it’s known over there is a chargeable option on hire cars. I wasn’t going to pay for what my phone offered for free.

The Canon UK office in Reigate had a retro red LED display in reception to show visitors how much power they were saving by using solar panels on the roof. Great idea… presumably by someone who doesn’t actually live in the UK. It rains about the same as in BC. The numbers say it all really…

Solar Energy in Canon UK, Reigate

Solar Energy in Canon UK, Reigate

Yup: solar energy only works in places where the sun shines… they could have saved power by just painting zeros on a piece of cardboard.

After performing my duties in the office I took the opportunity to visit my parents in Yorkshire for a day, so I headed north and somehow beat most of the Friday night exodus from London on the M1. After a peaceful night’s sleep we drove to Malham on Saturday morning, visiting the cove there. I hadn’t been since I was a kid. It was incredible how peaceful the Dales are. As a National Park, the building and therefore traffic is restricted and it shows. It was just like I remembered it 40 years ago. Every other vehicle you see is STILL a Land Rover Defender! And not for show, either. These 4x4s earn their keep on the many farms.

As we entered the village, visitors cars were already parking along the side of the road (see above!), which indicated the National Park car-park closer to the village centre was likely already full. The view over the drystone wall to the hills in the west were stunning. This was a very typical view – sheep behind ancient drystone walls, gently rolling hills occasionally broken by limestone scars… and a sprinkling of snow on “the tops.” The tops in this case being Kirkby Fell.

West from Malham

West from Malham

One of the first things you pass as you enter the village from the South is the Wesleyan Methodist chapel, built in 1866. Just for context, that’s when the Colony of British Columbia and the Colony of Vancouver Island were united as British Columbia, with the capital at Victoria. 20 years before the town of Granville was incorporated as “The City of Vancouver”.

It was a typical functional building, a style familiar from my childhood and still common in many rural areas of Yorkshire. (Built to last, as they say!)

Malham chapel

Malham chapel

As we walked through the village we came to the little traffic island with a road sign dating from years past. This “fingerpost” style was made redundant in the ’60s as part of the Worboys committee review. Note at the the top it says “Yorks W.R.” for Yorkshire – West Riding. The Riding has long since been dissolved in favour of simply West Yorkshire. As I left the country 15 years ago, the debate lingered on about whether the political entity of “Humberside” was still philosophically part of Yorkshire… wars have been fought over less.

Note also the 6 digit number at the lower part of the ring (you might need to click on the photo to expand it in order to see clearly)… this is an Ordnance Survey grid reference added as an experiment in West Yorkshire road signs to help the lost traveller to figure out where he was. The Ordnance Survey was a mapping project originally undertaken to help with the placing of guns (yup – a survey for ordnance) in Scotland in the wake of the Jacobite rebellion in 1745. It is now a comprehensive mapping scheme for the entire UK. Sometimes prefixed by a letter code (SD in this case) so you know which map or “sheet” to look for the grid reference on, it identifies your location to within a few metres.

Fingerpost - Malham

Fingerpost – Malham

Malham’s sign gives a reference of 900628 which confirms is where it claims to be. The extra accuracy of modern satellite mapping allows a 10 figure version of a grid reference to be given if you’re REALLY specific. Of course “just up the road from the Buck Inn in Malham” worked pretty well too! Malham Malham

As we headed NW on the Cove Road out of the village towards the Pennine Way footpath, we were rewarded with more stunning views (to the East this time) of the typical sheep enclosures in much of the Dales – the mosaic of drystone walls.

Shorkley Hill to the NE of Malham village

Shorkley Hill to the NE of Malham village

Panorama to the East and Shorkley Hill

Panorama to the East and Shorkley Hill

The cove was already visible as part of a broader limestone feature. It’s to the right in the photo below. From this distance though it was just a temptation. The winter sun was bright and the air crisp. A challenge to avoid shadows in the photos!

Malham Cove from the start of the path.

Malham Cove from the start of the path.

Time for some artsy photography now. To the left of the path was a road. Beyond that was a field with a small barn called – logically enough – High Barn. SD896633 just for “reference” :). Separating all these features were drystone walls. The layered effect struck me as worthy of capture. You can see we’re steadily gaining height and we’re right at the snowline, such as it is, after the light sprinkling.

High Barn, Malham

High Barn, Malham

The path we were on from the village to the cove was actually part of the Pennine Way. We were only walking a half mile or so of it, but it stretches 267 miles up the backbone of Britain. It used to be on my “to do” list, but I guess that’s no longer realistic.

It's way we do things in the Pennines

It’s the way we do things in the Pennines

As we got closer, the cove became more dominant and the black streaks it’s famous for become more noticeable. In Charles Kingsley’s Victorian book The Water-Babies these are attributed to the main character Tom (a boy chimney sweep) clambering down and leaving soot marks.

Tom's sooty marks on the face of Malham Cove

Tom’s sooty marks on the face of Malham Cove

At 80m high it’s very popular with climbers, but not on this chilly winter’s day. There was ice around and my father learnt to his cost that even a small amount is enough to lose one’s balance very suddenly. As we progressed towards the cove itself the sheep seemed pretty nonchalant at our intrusion. I inexplicably had a sudden desire for lamb shank and new potatoes…

Shaun? Is that you?

Shaun? Is that you?

Limestone is very hard-wearing, but glaciers make short work of it over the millennia. Slabs of it had been used to bridge the small beck flowing from the foot of the cove, and pools of water had frozen in the hollows making a most interesting effect.

Ice in the limestone footbridge

Ice in the limestone footbridge

The power of the glaciers to move huge chunks of rock around and wear away at the rock face defies imagination. I am always calmed in the face of such natural, slow-moving power.

One scoop of lime or two?

One scoop of lime or two?

Mother and daughter?

Mother and daughter?

Finally we were there and the sheer scale was apparent. It seems that during the harsh rains at Christmas which caused much flooding in the area, this long defunct waterfall once more gushed and was briefly the UK’s highest “single fall” waterfall once more. The sheer power could only be imagined on this lovely sunny day though.

The foot of Malham Cove

The foot of Malham Cove

The pleasant stroll back offered even more views of this lovely, relaxing place. I could feel the vitality of it soaking into my bones. So calming. Time stops in such places.

Wall with a view

Wall with a view

Back in the village I was surprised to see an emergency defibrillator on the wall of a building. There was a push-button key lock on it, and in an emergency you call 999 and tell them the unit number and they give you the code to open it and hopefully revive someone who’s heart has stopped. Plainly there’s quite a risk from hiking in these parts! The pub however seemed very welcoming to hikers – boots and all! “A warm Yorkshire welcome” says the sign… indeed! Shame about the missing apostrophe on the sandwich-board sign though. 😦

AED on the wall... just in case!

AED on the wall… just in case!

My two favourite beers in one place! Timmy Taylor's and Theakston's

My two favourite beers in one place! Timmy Taylor’s and Theakston’s

All welcome... boots included!

All welcome… boots included!

Just for context, here’s a snap from Google Maps to show the village (and thankfully it IS still a village – there is little development allowed) to the South, the cove to the North. See the pattern of drystone walls – they’re pretty much everywhere in the lower Dales. The limestone terraces are quite clear even on this satellite image.

Google Maps: Malham, Yorkshire

Google Maps: Malham, Yorkshire

It was now time for lunch, so we headed up the road to the NW to drop down via Langcliffe  into Settle. Even this gentle increase in elevation was enough to take us above the snowline, and we briefly stopped to take a few photos of the stark beauty that is The Yorkshire Dales.

Sheep pen on the moor near Malham Tarn

Sheep pen on the moor near Malham Tarn

Panorama back towards Malham from up on the moor

Panorama back towards Malham from up on the moor

Stile over the wall to keep the sheep in. Hikers can't forget to close it like they can with a gate!

Stile over the wall to keep the sheep in. Hikers can’t forget to close it like they can with a gate!

Long and winding road back to Malham from up on the moor

Long and winding road back to Malham from up on the moor

One more stop on the road to Langcliffe and Settle. Here we were looking to the North-West and could clearly see the magnificent Pen-y-Ghent to the North. It was a great way to end the trip out and I felt totally revitalised after only a few short hours in this amazing place. You’ll likely need to click on the first pano. shot to make it clear enough to see Pen-y-ghent on the far right. It was about 5 miles away.

Pano looking North from Langcliffe road. Pen-y-Ghent to the far right in the ditance

Pano looking North from Langcliffe road. Pen-y-Ghent to the far right in the distance

Just chillin... as sheep on the moor are wont to do.

Just chillin… as sheep on the moors are wont to do.

Pen-y-ghent looking as magnificent as ever it did.

Pen-y-ghent looking as magnificent as ever it did.

Once we were home, I treated the folks to pork pie with egg. For no other reason than I’ve never seen it here in BC and it reminded me of my childhood. If you fancy it yourself, try the BBC recipe here.

Pork pie with an egg in the middle... perfect end to the day

Pork pie with an egg in the middle… perfect end to the day


26 05 2015

Well that was a busy few days. A few more to come too.

As I mentioned a while back, I flew to the UK to visit some customers.

Raven and Fog Woman - YVR departure lounge

Raven and Fog Woman – YVR departure lounge

LHR T2 art

LHR T2 art – Zivko Edge 540 stunt plane

Hotel view - gasometers

Hotel view – gasometers

I headed North to help my mum celebrate her birthday (“The North remembers”) with a trip to the Lake District.

Theakston's Bitter

Theakston’s Bitter – The Ship Inn

It's all backwards

It’s all backwards

Boat rentals: Bowness on Windermere

Boat rentals: Bowness on Windermere

Sir Ranulph Fiennes' sledge. Antarctic expedition 1996

Sir Ranulph Fiennes’ sledge. Antarctic expedition 1996

Vintage MG detail

Vintage MG detail

Ruined boathouse - Fell Foot, Windermere

Ruined boathouse – Fell Foot, Windermere

Limestone lintel - Fell Foot

Limestone lintel – Fell Foot

Ruined boathouse - Fell Foot

Ruined boathouse – Fell Foot

Speeding past Ingleborough on the way to Ingleton

Speeding past Ingleborough on the way to Ingleton

Then I spent a few happy hours walking the haunts of my childhood.

This is not a play area. Allegedly.

This is not a play area. Allegedly.

Skipton Road. Victorian houses... with satellite dishes

Skipton Road. Victorian houses… with satellite dishes

No longer an off-license but someone's home

No longer an off-license but someone’s home

Jeff - still cutting hair 40 years on

Jeff – still cutting hair 40 years on and proud to be a Yorkshireman. Doubly.

This used to be a butcher's; now a baker's; perhaps next a candlestick maker?

This used to be a butcher’s; now a baker’s; perhaps next a candlestick maker?

L'Arche. Meeting the need wherever it's found

L’Arche. Meeting the need wherever it’s found

Tag 'em and bag 'em - death co-op style

Tag ’em and bag ’em – death co-op style

Haute cuisine - Yorkshire style

Haute cuisine – Yorkshire style

Silsden bridge

Silsden bridge

Leeds-Liverpool canal with Ilkley Moor in the background

Leeds-Liverpool canal with Ilkley Moor in the background

Next I flew to Cologne/Köln for a trade show.

The back of the bar in the Gaffel brewery

The back of the bar in the Gaffel brewery

Kolsch from the Gaffel brewery

Kölsch from the Gaffel brewery

Hotel Dorint - literally over the road from the Messe

Hotel Dorint – literally over the road from the Messe

Art. Or poor taste?

Art. Or poor taste?

German graffiti

German graffiti

Police vans at the Dom. There was a nearby protest about refugee immigration

Police vans at the Dom. There was a nearby protest about refugee immigration

Beautiful reflected sunset on the Köln Dom

Beautiful reflected sunset on the Köln Dom

Sunset over the opera house

Sunset over the opera house

Then back to the UK for a quick curry then back home to Vancouver.

Ashari curry house - Sipson.

Ashari curry house – Sipson.

Bugger the jet lag – Saturday was my birthday and we took a trip to a local formal gardens at Darts Hill. It’s rarely open to the public, and I took my 100mm macro for a jaunt in the spring showers.

Flag iris - furled

Flag iris – furled

Raindrops on peony petal

Raindrops on peony petal

Edelweiss (no singing, thank-you...)

Edelweiss (no singing, thank-you…)

Delicate painted petals

Delicate painted petals

Sunday saw a bit of gardening and a visit to the cinema with my son to watch the Mad Max relaunch (basically a 2hr car chase through the desert. Think “Dakar rally meets Wacky Races”).

Because the trade show spanned a statutory holiday in BC to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday I took Monday as a holiday in lieu. A day trip to Victoria on the Island seemed appropriate and my two youngest and I spent an interesting day in the provincial capital.

Today saw me back at work just to do a bit of paperwork, and tomorrow I’m off again. This time to Connecticut. A US state I’ve never before seen. I gather it’s quite a sight in autumn. As for spring, I’ll let you know…

Busy Few Days

13 05 2015

Well this afternoon I make my way to old Blighty for a couple of customer visits in Brum. It’s an overnight flight so when you add the inevitable lack of sleep from annoying seat-mates or teething children to the lost 8 hours due to physics and time zones, I’m really hoping I just remember to drive on the left when I get there! As I recall, LHR to Birmingham is pretty straightforward, but traffic in the UK was already a nightmare 15 years ago when I left. I think I’ll swing by my father-in-law’s in Milk’n’beans for a sit-down and a cup of tea en route. He’s coming to the Wet Coast in June to join us for my eldest’s graduation from Waterloo, so I’m half-expecting he’ll be wanting me to carry something or other back with me.

Anyway, from Milton Keynes I continue to the hotel in Birmingham tomorrow night and visit the customers on Friday. I have to pick up a colleague flying in from Dusseldorf, so it’s a lot of to-ing and fro-ing.

The pay-off though is that I get the weekend in the UK to myself. It’s my mum’s 74th birthday on Saturday, so I’m heading up to Yorkshire to buy her a fancy dinner (despite her insistence on using some voucher at the local pub/restaurant). Sunday night I’m flying with Germanwings to Cologne, and spending the week there at a trade show. FESPA if you’re in the ‘hood.

Monday’s a holiday here though, so I’ll miss out on that. I’ll just have to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday on my own in Köln. Quelle domage. Fizzy beer and sausage!

Thursday night, I’m back in Heathrow and stopping off for a curry in Sipson – most recommended, by the way. Time zones and physics pay back on Friday and I land in Vancouver at a time that is impossibly close to the time I set off. Saturday I’ll most likely sleep it off, which is a shame because that’s my own birthday.

I really must start looking into the possibilities of growing up.

Nah… maybe next year.

The Day Tour de Yorkshire came to Silsden

9 05 2015

Hot on the heels of the Yorkshire leg of the Tour de France, there is now The Tour de Yorkshire. I shit you not!

Here’s a write up from the 3rd of May, when it passed through my home village of Silsden: The Day Tour de Yorkshire came to Silsden | Tour de Yorkshire

I confess I sat patiently through the entire scroll of 68 photos just to be amazed alternatively at (i) how much the village has changed since I left for university back in 1982, never to return and (ii) how much it was just the same as I left it.

The old millstone grit houses and sagging stone (not slate – sandstone) rooves made me briefly homesick. The sight of Ilkley moor in the background of the photos pointing up Bolton Rd. was a particularly fond memory. With or b’aht ‘at.


A Furple

25 01 2015

Libraries are wonderful institutions. If you aren’t a member of your local library, or you are but don’t use it… why?! As well as everything else… it’s free!

As a kid I earnt my “librarian” badge in cubs. I remember part of it involved covering a book to make a dust jacket (a skill that came into great effect when I had to cover umpteen text books at grammar school). I covered my dad’s book on fishing. Rather wittily, I thought, I used wrapping paper depicting various floats and lures. Smart-arsed little 8 year old, wasn’t I?! It was called “The Compleat Angler” and I was puzzled by the apparent misspelling, even then (which is why I remember it more than 40 years later). Turns out it was first published in 1653… so I’ll let them off, since it was before Samuel Johnson’s 1755 dictionary.

Anyway, I became a frequent visitor to the local library in the village where I grew up, and was encouraged by Mrs Spencer, the local librarian. Over the years she even let me borrow several “for reference only” books to help with my homework. There weren’t a lot of takers for A-level organic chemistry books in our little corner of Yorkshire.

The highlight was being allowed into the hallowed “stacks” where books are kept that are not actually on the shelves. Here I found the McGraw-Hill Encyclopedia of Science & Technology. I was allowed to serially take home each of its weighty 20 tomes and yes – I did read them all! It was a seminal moment.

I learnt two key things about myself as a teenager at that time:

(i) I loved science and technology

(ii) I was a complete nerd (see i)

(iii) Maths wasn’t my strongest subject 😉

So anyway, last weekend I visited the local library here in South Surrey and borrowed a few things. Shakespeare, Backpacker magazine, Canadian History magazine, a book on colour correction. You know – the usual stuff. (Eclectic? Moi?) The latter reminded me to update my copy of GIMP, a totally free image manipulation tool that provides many of the features of PhotoShop. Of course, I haven’t opened the book yet, but I couldn’t wait to reacquaint myself with GIMP. I took a few random images to play with. One included an orange. And then I though. Why is an orange called an orange? Well, obviously it’s because it’s orange!

This then must be a furple, because it’s flippin’ purple, innit?!

A Furple

A Furple

A thorny case for Sherlock Holmes – UK in USA

7 08 2014

August 1st is Yorkshire Day, but also marks the Battle of Minden in 1759. The 51st Foot (King’s Own Yorkshire Light Infantry), now part of The Rifles took part, and subsequently wore a white rose of Yorkshire in their cap to commemorate the day.

Now, some mysterious person sends 6 roses (to mark all the British regiments taking part) to the British Consulate General in Chicago every 1st August. Nobody knows who…

The game’s afoot!

A thorny case for Sherlock Holmes – UK in USA.

FCO - Minden Day roses received in 2010

This Is Yorkshire on Vimeo

11 06 2013

Not a climber myself, and not one to sit and watch other people climbing as a rule.

But THIS video is different. You see… it’s in God’s Own County. Lots of it in my old stomping ground in and around West Yorkshire. Shipley Glen, Embsay, Brimham Rocks.

As soon as the video starts, the tone and texture of the rock instantly transported me back to the countless hours I spent camping and hiking through that terrain.

The maker (Dan Turner) asks that you consider donating to Climbers Against Cancer if you like his video which sounds like a reasonable request.

This Is Yorkshire on Vimeo.

Of Death Star and Doncaster

31 03 2013

So we all trekked off to the Auto Show on Friday. Quite a pleasant day out. We then went to the Bellaggio Café for lunch, opposite Canada Place in Vancouver. Near the Giant Blue Sperm. (It’s Art. It’s also German. Just sayin’…)

I have to say that the food was pretty good. The spelling though?! Interesting at the very least. It’s no connection at all with Bellagio (one g) in Las Vegas. There were no fountains or Dale Chihuly glass art.

Now I’m a big fan of Eddie Izzard‘s work. Mainly his stand-up, but also his straight acting. Up there with the best bits though is “Darth Vader in the Death Star canteen”. So famous in fact that it has been done in Lego and re-enacted word perfect by pre-pubescent boys a thousand times on YouTube. If by some fate of nature you’ve made it through life thus far without having seen it, try this video. If you’re well aware of Jeff, Sir Lord Vader of Cheam, then read on. Or eat cake. Your choice.

Now, I’d never actually heard of Penne Arrabbiata prior to Eddie Izzard, and I’ve never seen it on a menu. I thought it was one of those made up names. I once tried ordering the popular-in-Canada Alfredo sauce with my pasta on a trip to Northern Italy to howls of laughter and questions as to who in the name of all that is edible was this Alfredo chap?! Same with Latte – unknown in small town Italy.

Imagine my surprise then to see Penne Arrabbiata on the menu in Bellaggio’s. I opted in the end to share a proper Italian-style pizza (less crust than topping, unlike typical North American 2″ deep doughy monstrosities) with Mrs E., so can’t attest to the quality of the Arrabbiata sauce. Nor, I’m afraid can I attest to what a chocolate mouse tastes like. Even if serverd with ice-cream. Look carefully at Royal Chocolate in the photo…

Chocolate rodents on the menu at Bellaggio Café

Chocolate rodents on the menu at Bellaggio Café

Our waitress was very attentive but unfortunately it was other staff who delivered the actual orders. These others seemed to think it odd that we might want side plates in order to share our chicken wings, or regular plates off which to eat our pizzas. On the first attempt we were given teacup saucers!
The actual waitress, as I mentioned, was very attentive though. She was also English. Better – she was from Yorkshire. I know this because she told me so. Years ago, a French Canadian once told me that one need never ask if someone was from Yorkshire, as they’ll have already told you. C’est vrai! She’d married a bloke from Leeds it seems.

Over the space of our lunch we both politely circled around and determined our origins. I’d been in Canada 12 years, she 4. I was from “near Bradford” (in galactic terms at least – actually Silsden), she “from Doncaster”. My sister was born in Doncaster. Later, I said I’d spent my first 4 years in a village called Skellow, but couldn’t recall how close to Donny it actually was. It’s a suburb, she said. It’s where she’s really from! We agreed it was indeed a small world, and went our separate ways.

I just checked on Google Maps at what the old street looks like now. The one I spent my first four years on. Learning not to eat Play-Doh, alongside other life lessons. Watching the Vietnam war on black and white TV.  The old house is still there – and yes: that’s the A1 in spitting distance over the road. The Great North Road built by the Romans, and used ever since for moving untold volumes of goods North/South in England. “Go play in the fast lane of the A1” was a common repost when I was at school in later years. It really was incredibly possible…

Where QE spent his early years

Source: Google Maps – Where QE spent his very early years

Couldn’t have said it better myself!

18 01 2013

Some of my Canadian friends embarrass themselves occasionally by referring to my “British” accent. In an attempt to educate, I recommend the following video which helpfully explains the differences between England, Britain, the UK, Great Britain and the British Isles. Yes – they’re all different. The only thing missing is a mention of Yorkshire… but I’ll let it pass.  🙂

Thanks to a helpful Rover Scout for pointing this YouTube video out to me.

The Difference between the United Kingdom, Great Britain and England Explained – YouTube.