Art on a Northern Train

On my way back from Huddersfield to Elsecar, just outside of Barnsley, on a wintery night after a lovely lunch with my friends in Huddersfield. We ate at a Farm Shop restaurant and the hot beef sandwich I had was enough to warm anyone. it was the end of a great day out for me . On the train a pair of young women on their way I suppose for a night out in Sheffield. Both might be described as semi punk goth, one more striking and brave than the other who I suppose was there as general encouragement. Absolutely … Continue reading Art on a Northern Train

Going tut Thartgallery.

Thepworth to be exact. Ok, that’s enough of that nonsense. Yorkshire people take a defiant pride in their dialect and there’s a whole industry supporting the way they, or some of them, speak. No one has told the lady announcer at Wakefield train station, a city with two stations would you believe, as she spoke with the refined tones of a radio three announcer introducing a concert of Brahms. Was it only me that found it odd? The big black guy talking in an incomprehensible African dialect could be heard by almost anyone on the platform and be sure that … Continue reading Going tut Thartgallery.

Hammer to crack a nut.

My last posting on dishwashers and washing up seems to have generated more traffic than I would have expected, so I make no apologies for keeping on the same theme. I’m fond of tea, and unlike coffee I’m not that particular about the brew type. As a Lancastrian  I am forced to admit that my present favourite claims to come from Yorkshire. I suspect that is where they put it in the box rather than there being fields of tea collectors taking the delicate leaves from a south facing slope in Barnsley. I do insist that it is brewed in … Continue reading Hammer to crack a nut.