Walk towards the light

Titus Salt built a model community just outside Bradford in the 19th Century and one of his achievements, in amongst the mills and streets of modern and sanitary housing for the workers, was a rather beautiful church. We drove up to stay with big Brother and Ms D, picture here in the doorway of said church. I have no idea who the two strangers to their left are, although when I put my camera away and looked up they had disappeared in the space of a few milliseconds, leaving behind only a feint smell of patchouli and a tinkling sound like the transporter room on the USS Enterprise. Draw your own conclusions.

It only took us just over four hours to get up to Shipley. Not having had much time alone together recently, we were enjoying talking so much that we missed the M25 junction with the M1 and had to double back on ourselves. It was sunny and relaxed despite an interminable series of road works keeping us to 50 mph.

Apart from a brief visit to Salts Mill and an excellent pint of Saltaire Blond, we spent most of the afternoon in a sunny garden eating and drinking and playing shuffleboard, which got slightly competitive. Younger members of the family did what children always do, playing games and filling the garden with laughter and the grass with spilled drinks that no-one was bothered about.

In the evening a neighbour bought foraged field mushrooms which we cooked in butter and Ms D cooked aubergine parmegiana using a recipe taught to her by her Italian grandmother. Oh and somewhere along the way we saw a girl doing random cartwheels after crossing the road. And Big Brother won a delightful pastel pink cat calendar in a church fete tombola (it is already one of his most treasured possessions). It was just one of those days when small events like this appeared out of nowhere like existential flash cards.

Lovely to be in the bosom of my Northern family again. Lovely day.