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lupestripe) wrote2010-08-19 12:19 am
lupestripe) wrote2010-08-19 12:19 am
A Quintessentially British Day (Sans Pimms)
Horsforth was Wolfie and I's destination as part of our magical mystical bus tour of West Yorkshire on the days we happen to spend off together. You get t'number 9 from t'bus shelter smelling of t'urps and we even grabbed a novelty biscuit from t'greggs along t'way. The bus was 20 minutes late and the driver was a t'wat but we got there eventually in the brilliance of a summer Sunday (one of few so far in this dismal dreary summer).
Horsforth - from the Horse's Ford - is a charming rural affair nestling 7 miles from the bustling mayhem of Leeds City Centre. It's like an oasis of calm by the ring road, a beautiful Yorkshire village of sandstone that looks nice in the summer but makes you want to slit your wrists in the winter. The village was in the Domesday Book, we walked down its charming yet short high street and spotted the usual eclectic collection of bars, banks and travel agents. And Mutley's Pet Shop which offers a hotel for small animals whose owners are going away (unless they booked with Kiss Holidays). Mutley's is yellow on the front and has a picture of a sniggering Mutley on the front, perhaps because he has eaten all the small animals. I don't know.
We called in at the small parochial museum where a charming man told me next to nothing about the history of the railways in Horsforth and the four stations which used to exist there. Now there is but one. Still, he sold me a little guide book to transport in Horsforth for £2.50 and I donated a 50p for his invaluable advice. On the way out we saw a man not unlike the York Brewery man from Friday but his beard was white and not ginger. We struck up conversation. We also discovered that a manufacturer of small tin boats for children was the main industry in the area, along w' t'mill and the WWII museum was rather nice. We also saw old maps of the town and learned a lot about its history. We also saw lingerie through the ages, with a nice 1950s crotch piece. It was murrr.
No self-effacing town is complete without a continental beer bar these days and we found our way to The Town Hall Tavern, a charming watering hole on the main high street. I had Duvel Green, as did Wolfie, and we shared some olives with garlic and chili. Most pleasant. We then headed to the park where we saw the Japanese botanical garden - an oasis of charm and beauty locked between four very Victorian looking brick walls. The flora in this park was stunning at this time of year and the waterfall avec pond in the centre created a literal oasis. The algae on top of the pond was perhaps a little over-ripe as the water was green, with it cascading over the waterfall like a piece of giant's snot. It looked quite marvellous though and along with the tasteful red pegodas, it made for a charming setting.
Equally, the generic botanical garden with its pretty coloured flowerbed was another charming slice of Britishness. A black dog barked at us for daring to walk in the park, much to the owner's embarrassment, and we spent a large part of the afternoon watching dogs gambolling about and chasing balls, having the times of their lives. I wish I got so excited about a ball in a park. There was also a nice Millennium clock by the park in a beautiful green colour.
Tying in with an ambition to watch more live sport - something I have sadly neglected in recent years and an itch which is still yearning to be satisifed - we spied an amateur cricket game taking place on one side of the park. There was a little clubhouse attached to it in which they served beer. We weren't sure if it was a members only club or not but we chanced it, were served that quintessentially British lager Holsten Vier and sat outside on some benches watching proceedings. The team in bat were chasing 221 runs and were 42-3 when we arrived. Clearly in disarray, our support bouyed them somewhat as they took it to 90-3 before collapsing. It was 141-7 when we left, two pints later as we were enjoying ourselves. We spent a lot of the time watching the game, trying to avoid being hit in the head by the cricket ball, watching the people in the little scoring shelter be incredibly slow and spying the planes flying overhead towards the near Leeds-Bradford airport. Indeed, the only reason why I couldn't live there would be the plane noise. Dogs tried to catch the cricket ball and one even strayed on to the field. After every over, the cricketers changed ends and they all shared some Robinson's barley water during the match. It really was a truly British scene - apart from the skatepark full of kids behind us, which you could hear incessently.
Fearing we needed to head back, we headed back into town to find we had a half hour wait for our bus. This meant we had to take up residence in another hostellry and got sucked into the Wigan Warriors v Huddersfield Giants Super League game on the TV. One pint turned into two as we vowed to see this end-to-end match through and we were glad to see Yorkshire prevail. An excellent sport and one I would like to go and see live at some point in the future. Wolfie spent a lot of the time explaining the more subtle rules to me as being from Yorkshire, he had a greater empathy than I with my Teesside ways. It was sad that the commentary was turned off at half-time though. After the game, the pub focused on karaoke and the bus soon arrived - not a moment too soon.
Horsforth - from the Horse's Ford - is a charming rural affair nestling 7 miles from the bustling mayhem of Leeds City Centre. It's like an oasis of calm by the ring road, a beautiful Yorkshire village of sandstone that looks nice in the summer but makes you want to slit your wrists in the winter. The village was in the Domesday Book, we walked down its charming yet short high street and spotted the usual eclectic collection of bars, banks and travel agents. And Mutley's Pet Shop which offers a hotel for small animals whose owners are going away (unless they booked with Kiss Holidays). Mutley's is yellow on the front and has a picture of a sniggering Mutley on the front, perhaps because he has eaten all the small animals. I don't know.
We called in at the small parochial museum where a charming man told me next to nothing about the history of the railways in Horsforth and the four stations which used to exist there. Now there is but one. Still, he sold me a little guide book to transport in Horsforth for £2.50 and I donated a 50p for his invaluable advice. On the way out we saw a man not unlike the York Brewery man from Friday but his beard was white and not ginger. We struck up conversation. We also discovered that a manufacturer of small tin boats for children was the main industry in the area, along w' t'mill and the WWII museum was rather nice. We also saw old maps of the town and learned a lot about its history. We also saw lingerie through the ages, with a nice 1950s crotch piece. It was murrr.
No self-effacing town is complete without a continental beer bar these days and we found our way to The Town Hall Tavern, a charming watering hole on the main high street. I had Duvel Green, as did Wolfie, and we shared some olives with garlic and chili. Most pleasant. We then headed to the park where we saw the Japanese botanical garden - an oasis of charm and beauty locked between four very Victorian looking brick walls. The flora in this park was stunning at this time of year and the waterfall avec pond in the centre created a literal oasis. The algae on top of the pond was perhaps a little over-ripe as the water was green, with it cascading over the waterfall like a piece of giant's snot. It looked quite marvellous though and along with the tasteful red pegodas, it made for a charming setting.
Equally, the generic botanical garden with its pretty coloured flowerbed was another charming slice of Britishness. A black dog barked at us for daring to walk in the park, much to the owner's embarrassment, and we spent a large part of the afternoon watching dogs gambolling about and chasing balls, having the times of their lives. I wish I got so excited about a ball in a park. There was also a nice Millennium clock by the park in a beautiful green colour.
Tying in with an ambition to watch more live sport - something I have sadly neglected in recent years and an itch which is still yearning to be satisifed - we spied an amateur cricket game taking place on one side of the park. There was a little clubhouse attached to it in which they served beer. We weren't sure if it was a members only club or not but we chanced it, were served that quintessentially British lager Holsten Vier and sat outside on some benches watching proceedings. The team in bat were chasing 221 runs and were 42-3 when we arrived. Clearly in disarray, our support bouyed them somewhat as they took it to 90-3 before collapsing. It was 141-7 when we left, two pints later as we were enjoying ourselves. We spent a lot of the time watching the game, trying to avoid being hit in the head by the cricket ball, watching the people in the little scoring shelter be incredibly slow and spying the planes flying overhead towards the near Leeds-Bradford airport. Indeed, the only reason why I couldn't live there would be the plane noise. Dogs tried to catch the cricket ball and one even strayed on to the field. After every over, the cricketers changed ends and they all shared some Robinson's barley water during the match. It really was a truly British scene - apart from the skatepark full of kids behind us, which you could hear incessently.
Fearing we needed to head back, we headed back into town to find we had a half hour wait for our bus. This meant we had to take up residence in another hostellry and got sucked into the Wigan Warriors v Huddersfield Giants Super League game on the TV. One pint turned into two as we vowed to see this end-to-end match through and we were glad to see Yorkshire prevail. An excellent sport and one I would like to go and see live at some point in the future. Wolfie spent a lot of the time explaining the more subtle rules to me as being from Yorkshire, he had a greater empathy than I with my Teesside ways. It was sad that the commentary was turned off at half-time though. After the game, the pub focused on karaoke and the bus soon arrived - not a moment too soon.