Picture source Wikipedia
Last week Barcelona, this week Todmorden.
A wry smile and a knowing Anne Robinson wink. Really, life just keeps getting better.
It's so easy to jump on a plane - and miss what's on your doorstep. So yesterday we put on our flat caps and resumed our tour of northern towns, which so far has started and finished with Wigan.
While we chose possibly the grimmest day of the year - our 4 mile walk along The Rochdale Canal in the Calder Valley from Todmorden to Hebden Bridge (the 'grey area' between Lancashire and Yorkshire) was an adventure. Click here for more information on the route.
Picture source, AA.com.
Ive never been to Todmorden and I've never been to Hebden Bridge, so I approached the day with the same sense of anticipation as I did The Canadian Rockies.
I've driven past the junction for Milnrow and Shaw on the M62, hundreds of times. But I've never taken it. I was into unchartered territory. And as we gained altitude and left the A58 from Rochdale, a big red sign told us whether the roads were open or not. It was foggy, there was snow. It was like entering the Alps!
I'm exaggerating a bit - but it was quite exciting and I was wearing a thermal hat with ear flaps and plats.
Todmorden was a solid, gray northern town. But the price of a hair cut seemed very reasonable.
"This is a bloody marvelous town" I overheard someone say in the Market Place.
But we couldn't stay. We were looking for The Rochdale Canal!
We found it eventually, hiding at the back of Lidl's car park.
The tow path was incredibly icy. However the dog owners of Todmordon were thankfully helping out by leaving dog sh*t everywhere which at least gave me some purchase.
Weirdly said sh*t was not only enormous - it could only have come from dogs with rectums the size of toilet roll inner tubes. But it was also orange. Really bight orange. I've googled this phenomenon and conclude that they all have Colitis - commonly found in animals that raid bins!
I decided against taking photos.
Onwards along The Rochdale Canal - until ..........
Less than half a mile into our walk, we were thwarted - by essential maintenance!
Luckily the main road was to hand so we did a bit of a de-tour. I was walking to Hebden Bridge come hell or high water.
We dropped back down onto the canal tow path and tried again.
Passing crazy people in canoes.
And some nosey ponies.
Progress was slow. I was mincing about on the ice at a snails pace. It was only when we were overtaken by some pensioners that I finally realised that at our current velocity we were unlikely to reach Hebden Bridge before dark. At that point I sat on a lock and had a tantrum!
So we bobbed back up onto the main road and continued on our way. It was a bit grim!
But then we arrived in Shangri-La, where houses were painted in Farrow and Ball's 'Lulworth blue' and 'Lichen', there were shops called 'Snug' and 'Home - Oh' and where you could get a grilled haloumi panini! Hello Hebden Bridge!
The place was awash with 'shabby chic'.
I'd walked into a magazine shoot! Even the shoes were Cath Kidston.
It goes without saying that Hebden Bridge (according to Wikipedia) has the highest proportion of lesbians per head of the population - which kind of explains things.
As I worked my way through a piece of Lemon Drizzle cake and a nice cup of tea served in mis-matched china, I thought what a cracking place it was. Designed to seduce me into parting with a serious amount of cash for lovely things that I didn't really need.
All this - and just on our doorstep. I'll definitely be back, but next time in the Summer, when I think we'll bring the bikes and cycle to Sowerby Bridge.
A properly Grand Day Out. You should try it!
