A strange thing happened when I awoke on Friday morning. I may even have happened on Thursday evening. In fact, I think it did. I realised I was facing 4 days without plans. In Halifax. Where I don't know people. And I don't yet really know the town. A rather interesting situation to find myself in.
But as it turns out, a rather marvellous one.
This loooooooong bank holiday weekend that's turned up straight after Easter was always a little unexpected – firstly because it was unexpected. And secondly because it rushed up on me without me noticing. Or rather time was passing and I wasn't noticing. Either way – all of a sudden it was here and, well, so was I. The temptation to dash off to various locations around the UK was high – Morecambe, where I knew there were fun and games afoot and I could hang out with my new Lancastrian buddies; London, where SciFi London (the film festival I've volunteered at for the past few years, which is ironic given I don't like SciFi) is well underway and will continue so for the rest of the weekend; or Oxfordshire where I could bounce on my trampoline, see my folks and see the village Maypole dancing on Monday. Having said farewell to an Easter-time tradition just a week ago (for the past chunk of years I've gone to Nottingham for a get together of Joinees – www.join-me.co.uk for more info – this year I was on the beach in Morecambe) the question was: comfy tradition or unknown newness. And, as you can tell, the latter won out.
(On an entirely separate note: homemade popcorn with icing sugar, rather than castor. Sticks to the popcorn rather than just falling off. Win.)
Now, in truth I did have one plan for this weekend – take delivery of a second hand fridge that was going begging and in so doing spend some time with a friend from Manchester. However, that plan was suitably vague (“Some time Sunday or Monday...”) and had been fixed some time previously and until yesterday evening remained “without confirmation”. But now that's been lined up all is even better.
After a morning of pottering (and being caught by the census man who decided it was sensible for me to have to fill out the census for the third time – which I just think is excessive. Especially given on the night in question I was actually in a hotel in Scotland. Anyway) the valley beckoned and I headed off on an expedition of my local area. Each morning and evening I find myself at Halifax train station – one side of the valley has my home and the rest of Halifax on it. The other side was an unknown but had lots of lovely trees and pretty looking stone cottages. And that was the target of my explorations. Got to the top of the hill, found myself a little wall to sit on while I had a chat to my brother then decided to head back to town via a little footpath which I'd found. I didn't actually know where it would go but was working on the basis it was fairly likely I'd end up at the bottom of the valley and therefore able to work out a vague route home.
Stomping along I smelt a distinct wood-smokey smell and discovered some still-warm embers from a little bonfire someone had had. The problem with these still-warm embers was that they were merrily spreading outwards, charring and burning the very dry “forest stuff” (no idea what you call it, but the dry tiny twigs and stuff you find in woods where there isn't enough light for greenery to grow). My attempts to put out said spreading was completely ineffectual so I had my second 999 call in almost as many weeks (which, given I've never had to call 999 before, is pretty bizarre) as I couldn't find a number for the local fire station that was getting answered. Next up was the “where are you?” conversation with the operator – absolutely brilliant given I didn't have the foggiest. But by hook and by crook we worked it out and a fire engine duly turned up and I directed them to the offending burny things. Citizen duty hat back in my pocket, the rest of the day was relaxed and saw me finish The End of Oil by Paul Roberts. Thought provoking book which I can highly recommend.
But the fun really started on Saturday. Up and to the sauna. Brill. Back to do some bits and pieces before heading down to a local arts centre, the Square Chapel, for a drumming circle. I like drumming. I didn't really know this until I went along but there's something rather brilliant about it. And after an hour or so of drumming rhythms, getting mixed up and then getting back into it, I somehow found myself walking into the Piece Hall with two people who'd been at the circle (not to mention having helped a lady down the stairs with her pushchair – a lady who I'd also given my card to as they'd been a mention of Massage and she seemed quite keen) and chatting away, only to find out that they were both veggie, one was vegan (father / son combo – the son was the vegan) and were looking for somewhere for lunch. Well, any self-respecting Tigger (yes, that would be me) could only tell them about Dandelion & Burdock in Sowerby Bridge. Son loved the idea, father thought it seemed like a good plan – and promptly invited me to join them!
Dandelion & Burdock has never yet failed to please and yesterday's visit was no exception – except it was EVEN BETTER! Because there were three of us, we just all shared a bit of what everyone else was having which was brilliant for the main course (one hot dish, plenty of salady stuff and some amazing large pasta shells stuffed with cream cheesey stuff – impossible to describe but AWESOME) but when it came to dessert meant – we got to order one of everything! The sun was shining, the company was great – and then son said he'd pay for it all! Happy Tigger. The rest of Saturday was a blur of belly-sated goodness.
And today started with sortingsey-outey-stuff, a spinning (studio cycling) class (not entirely convinced either way, but an experience!) and wandering up to Shibden Hall & Park. Which is GLORIOUS. And will definitely be on my list for future visitors. Good weekend. And there's still another day to go (which heralds Massage, a fridge and lemon cake. Mmmmm)
