My Grandmother was from Huddersfield. Just before she died she told me that there was one space left in her family tomb but that she didn't want me to cart her body up there from Rickmansworth. Some years later I visited Huddersfield but I couldn't find the cemetery. I assume that the space is still available unless some squatter has taken it.
From what I understand (mostly gleaned from an episode of 'The Premier League Show' earlier this season) Huddersfield is having a miniature northern hipster revival, with microbreweries and co-working facilities abounding, to go alongside the club's elevation...
You are so right. I lived in the Derbyshire Dales about 10 miles outside of Sheffield for a couple of years at the turn of the millennium and if ever I was to come back to Blighty that's exactly where I would look to live again. My drive to work from Hathersage to Sheffield was just stunning. The M25 really doesn't compare.
The more I read your posts, the more I'm convinced that you are actually a burly bricklayer from Oxhey and this tennis character nonsense is all just pretend....
When I worked at Gosling some travellers had managed to park in the car park and one large chap came in to leer at Muriel,one of the receptionists. He just stood there as she asked various daft questions such as 'would you like to book a court?' and 'are you a member?' He then said 'fantastic brickwork love', looking somewhere other than the wall behind her and sloped off! She never really recovered. Now where did I put my trowel?
Huddersfield fans are talking about attacking our coaches and throwing flares at kids on their forum. and because I take these things seriously and literally, we should go tooled up and mark a few of them northern monkeys. Karnesis Janmaat Cathcart Kabasele Holebas (yes, still) Feminia Doucoure Capoue Hughes Peyeyra Gray 0-2 Pereyra, Gray
I'm not having them attack Gracia and our other coaches, that's out of order. And as for throwing flares at kids on their own forum, well that sounds like a spectacular own goal
Ahh many a night drinking beer at the Little John in Hathersage and then trapsing round for the worlds largest breakfast at the Grindleford Cafe
We can all make up anecdotes about northern towns. I remember as a lad, having a tumble with Bessie Threppleswaite outside the bingo hall in Chestlthorpe. I had to then peddle 19 mile to Gristlethorpethwaite to go to work at the ******* mill before returning home to Thorpagethwaitethorpe
Except there really is a Little John in Hathersage http://www.littlejohnhotel.co.uk/ I've googled your Thorpagethwaitethorpe and Gristlethorpethwaite and frankly the closest match I got was some obscure railway station in Anglesey.
We stumbled on the Grindleford café walking in the Peak District one weekend years ago. I believed then it was truly the world's greatest station caff. I do hope it hasn't changed.
I believe 'Bovril' to be an unknown word in Harpenden,similar to 'bus' ,'Labour Party' and 'dole'. "Nanny' and 'second home' are prevalent however. Lemon drizzle cake and fruit platter is possible and some nicely cut sandwiches.
I visited some friends of the family in Harpenden when I was a little boy. I was given some nicely cut sandwiches, cucumber, if I remember correctly, but they where taken away from me by some stern looking lady, because I forgot to curl my little finger when I lifted my bone china tea cup.
One of my favourite pieces of radio was when the Major of Harpenden and the Major of Berkhampstead were both on the same show trying to promote their fare's, fates or similar It was the nearest thing to a "posh off" you could ever have
Think hard, Watford fans...a Huddersfield win on Saturday would probably make it easier to avoid relegation next season if it causes Saints to go down.
I played in the Hertfordshire Junior Golf Championship at Hammonds End in Harpenden in about 1971. I was practiising in the nets when my ball found a hole in the net. It looped high into the air and dropped on the lawn of a back garden. This bald-headed fellow was sitting in the back room of the house reading at his desk through the patio doors . He saw my golf ball and came out the back to retrieve it. He approached us with his specs sat at a strange angle across his forehead - and lobbed my ball back over the fence shouting "Weh, hey!" It was Eric Morecambe. Nice chap.
In Snorbens we think of Harpenden as one of the less squalid suburbs of Luton. Our sandwiches are cut even more nicely and we put cream on our Bovril
In Chenies our sandwiches are crimped and we put cucumber, mint, strawberry and orange in chilled jugs of bovril.
