The rain in Manchester is something the natives ignore and the non-natives alternately bitch or joke about non-stop. Since I'm a non-native, I can't ignore it, and I'm not yet at the point where I can joke about it. Everyone told me I arrived in England at the worst possible time of the year in terms of weather, and I believe them. Cold, dreary and wet every day is just depressing.
There's this funny article I found online called, How often does it rain in Manchester? It has some great advice, such as "if you're ever lost here and need directions, don't ask anyone with an umbrella ... Seek out those resembling a drowned rat. Proper Manc! They'll know their way around." Which is so true! But the best line is this -- "Drive 20 miles in any direction away from Manchester. Check the rear-view mirror. It looks like Mordor." Yes, Mordor, Tolkien's Land of Shadow, bounded by mountains. This is a surprisingly apt analogy.
Manchester is surrounded by the West Pennine Moors to the northwest, the South Pennines to the north and north east, and the Peak District to the east and southeast. Weather patterns and moisture come in from the ocean, across the Cheshire plain, get stopped by the hills and peaks, and concentrate over Manchester. Pete explained that all of that rain and humidity is what made the area ideal for the textile industry. Wool and cotton threads didn't break as often when being worked in a damp environment. Fascinating history, but since I'm not weaving textiles, I'm not very appreciative of the unique benefits of this climate.
I mention all of this as background to my drive up to Huddersfield on Saturday. Pete is originally from Brighouse, and Hudderfield is the closest major city with a nice hotel in between Manchester (for the airport) and Brighouse (for the family), so that's where they were staying. I woke up in Manchester to pea-soup fog. This was my Facebook status:
The fog this morning on the Quays is as thick as pea soup. Old Trafford and the studio buildings across the way have disappeared; all I can see are the illuminated "itv" letters. The canal waters are as still as glass, except where the surface has been disturbed by the flapping wings of the seagulls over head. A cold and dreary Saturday morning indeed.In terms of Middle Earth, think of the Dead Marshes. There probably *are* a lot of dead bodies at the bottom of the Manchester canals.... Anyways, I got up, dressed and ready, and headed out on the road. The drive winds northeast up the M62 and takes about 45 minutes to an hour, depending on traffic and weather.
As you get out of Manchester towards the north east, you start climbing from ~38 metres above sea level up the South Pennines, heading over "The Tops", reaching a height of 372 m above sea level at Windy Hill, which is the highest point of any motorway in England. I know this because they put up a sign. I marked it on the map above with a black arrow.
The immediate change in weather was stunning. One second I was surrounded by deadly fog, icy mist and patches of snow in The Tops, and the next second I burst free into a bright, clear blue sky and abundant sunshine. I had spotted a large stone marker bearing the white rose of York, welcoming me to Yorkshire. I think I heard choirs of angels singing. I checked my rear-view mirror and could see Mordor behind me. Seeing the traditional white rose of York also gave this history buff a little thrill.
The countryside with the rolling moorlands and farms was beautiful. In some ways it reminded me of Montana, if you ever saw 200+ year old stone manor houses dotting the Montana landscape, while driving on the wrong side of the road. My mood brightened commensurate with the sunshine.
An accident near the Huddersfield junction forced me to do a little creative re-routing with the aid of my GPS, but I made it to Pete and Jenn's hotel just a few minutes late. I gave Jenn her present which I had found at the Altrincham Christmas Market, a handmade metal headband with beads and decoration, sort of like a tiara (which fit Jenn's style perfectly). Pete headed off for his family time, and Jenn and I headed to the city centre for our Huddersfield shopping adventure.
Since it was a market day, traffic was busy and parking was difficult. I took this picture to try to capture the image of the railroad viaduct (very cool structure), but it also accurately shows how much of a clusterf*** the traffic was.
I dropped Jenn off at the Laura Ashley store and finally found a street parking spot. I tend to think of Laura Ashley as the overly flowery clothing we wore back in the early 1990's, but it's actually a very nice home and furnishings collection. I wasn't planning to buy anything, but I ended up finding these pretty little faceted crystal tea light holders (on sale!) that I knew would fit perfectly on my electric fireplace. Here they are, now in place:
Afterwards, we walked over to the Huddersfield Open Market to explore their Saturday Second-Hand market. The quarter surrounding the market appeared to be filled with discount and used furniture stores; it looked like the perfect place to pick up a deal on home goods. In general the city centre has some beautiful architecture to admire. The market building itself is a Grade 2 listed structure, with a restored Victorian cast iron and glass roof canopy. To be honest, I had low expectations, but it was really nice.
They also do an antiques market one Sunday a month that I would love to check out sometime.
Jenn and I had a ball chatting and browsing up and down the aisles. My rental house doesn't have many light fixtures, in two places, it's bare light bulbs hanging down from the ceiling, and I found a lovely light shade for only £10. It was brand new with the original box; the seller said someone likely had bought it, didn't use it and couldn't be bothered to return it. I've seen the same shade for sale at home stores since for £20 and more, so I know I got a good deal. Here it is now hanging at home. That's £10 well-spent!
Jenn found a good deal on a set of new luggage. The luggage was necessary because she had done so much shopping, she needed more bags to transport everything home. :-) While she was taking care of that purchase, I enjoyed watching a butcher hawk his meat over a loudspeaker. Now this was something I had never seen before. I've been to markets before, but he was taking selling to a new level of showmanship. I took a short video, because he had an incredible accent, and I just loved watching him in action. Be sure to watch the video where you can turn up the sound to appreciate the accent.
Professor Henry Higgins would be in ecstasy.
After our successful, fun shopping excursion, we headed over to the Yorkshire Rose for lunch. We really came for dessert, but we had to eat some lunch first. I don't remember the main meal, but I'm sure it was tasty. We are all about the dessert -- Jam Roly Poly, and no, there was NO sharing. There is no "we" in Jam Roly Poly. Their version was a yellow cake (technically, I guess, a suet pudding) rolled with raspberry jam, cooked and served warm with custard. Delicious comfort food.
Unfortunately, I did eventually have to return Jenn to her husband. :-( We made a swing through Costa Coffee and then met back up with Pete at a Homebase store that was going out of business. We didn't find any great deals, but I did pick up a metric tape measure. Back at their hotel there were lots of big hugs good-bye, and then I started the sad drive back to Land of Shadow and endless rain.
Footnote:
While googling stuff related to driving over the Pennines, I stumbled across this wonderful blog post about The Stanza Stones, poems by Simon Armitage carved into stones across the area. If you have extra time, I recommend a read. Or you can buy the book. The ode to RAIN seems especially appropriate for me. It starts:
Be glad of these freshwater tears,
Each pearled droplet some salty old sea-bullet
Air-lifted out of the waves, then laundered and sieved, recast as a soft bead and returned.
