This is a rather odd little postcard which dates from the early years of the twentieth century and features a view of Crown Street in Halifax. For some reason, the publishers – the famous W H Smith & Son – have chosen to print the photograph in a murky black on a dark silvery grey; a process which leaves the […]
I finally made it to Cliffe Castle Museum and Park in Keighley on Thursday and I am so glad that I did. I went there to see the fabulous stained glass windows by William Morris, Burne-Jones and Rosetti, that were from the former St James Church in Brighouse. They are displayed magnificently along with many other examples of stained glass […]
There is an advert doing the rounds on television at the moment for some new family history database service which is supposed to make tracing your ancestors as easy as sending a Paypal transfer for £100. Just press a computer key and: “Oh goodness, my grandmother was the daughter of the Duke of Beaudung“, says the happy customer, followed by […]
A fly on the window and not on the wall. A tiny, moth-like fly, which turns out to be a miniature work of art: picked out against a Yorkshire sky.
This is an old sepia photograph of a seaside resort, which was taken, I suspect, in the early twentieth century. I don’t know where it was taken: I am sure it is somewhere in England, but there are few clues in the photograph itself. There is what looks like a ruined castle on the top of a hill in the […]
People today just don’t know how to behave. There is no discipline. Fighting, swearing, misbehaving on a Corporation tramcar – we didn’t act like that when I was young.
There is something rather lovely about this old gravestone, standing snug against the sandstone walls of St Martin’s in Brighouse. Perhaps it’s the almost Pre-Raphaelite design, perhaps it is the challenge presented by the Roman numerals. It stands out not by its size or dominance of the graveyard, but by the fact that it hides its beauty and challenges you […]
What better way to spend a sunny day than wandering around a Yorkshire churchyard, looking for history and finding it under every stone slab.
The old Crossley Orphanage – now the Crossley Heath School – remains one of the most handsome buildings in Halifax. Nevertheless – almost 50 years after I attended it – I still have nightmares about getting lost within its labyrinthine corridors.
