LOST IN DEEPEST West Yorkshire! Setting out to friends we’ve visited only once before,
we’ve ended up down a no through road by Shepley’s tiny station. Thank goodness for
We’re soon following directions to find a single track lane (with passing places)
between hedge-banks festooned with cow parsley and occasional arches of foliage and
hawthorn blossom above us, so luciously verdant that it’s like driving into one of
Samuel Palmer’s visionary Shoreham period paintings.
We return home via Emley Moor where the grey cloud is so low that the television
mast looks no taller than a stumpy lighthouse. In human proportions the cloud-base
is no more than ankle deep, shin-deep at most to the concrete tower.