So what I hear you ask is my link to Russell Harty, tenuous though it is? Well my former wife, mother of my daughters, who I shall refer to as ‘J’, whilst at college, worked as an assistant on Fred Harty’s fruit and vegetable stall on Blackburn Market before she eventually moving on to work for Eric & Mildred Kent’s clothing stall. ‘J’ spent time up at Fred & Myrtle's house when she was growing up and as a result knew Russell and his sister Saundra quite well, so much so that she and her husband Geoff, came to our wedding in Blackburn back in May 1970.
Although Blackburn, known locally by many as Blackburnistan, now resembles a depressing multicultural shithole, currently suffering the highest infection rate of the Indian variant of Covid-19 in the whole UK, the folk there are extremely kind and generous with a great sense of humour, they tell it how it is, and they were particularly generous to ‘J’ and myself regarding our wedding gifts. Saundra & Geoff were kind enough to buy us a really nice electric kettle which lasted us for years. So I thought I'd put some flowers on Russell's grave as a little way of saying ‘thank you’ to the family, as I guess with the passage of time few visit it. I'd been to his grave once before, many years ago, and thought I would be able to remember where it was. The Chef stayed onboard and started to prepare lunch whilst I walked back to the narrow road which lead down to the very pretty village of Giggleswick armed with a small bunch of flowers, the best I could get from the small supermarket in Hayworth yesterday before jumping on the bus back to the campsite.
Well despite my best efforts involving two walks around the churchyard and the extended cemetery next door I just couldn't find his grave, I even popped in to the church to make enquiries but it was empty, and to top it all I asked a local who walked past with his dog if he knew where Russell Harty's grave was and he said he'd never seen it. So that was a huge disappointment, his grave seems to have disappeared, it's as if somebody had dug a hole and buried him.
I was now left with my small floral token and as I'd noticed a grave in the cemetery with a similar surname as Russell's, well it began with 'H', that was close enough, I left the flowers there (flower arranging is not my strong point). What a waste of time and effort that was.
Next it was off to the Greenfoot car park at Settle (N54.065810° W2.275858°) only to find the three allocated parking spaces for motorhomes full, so that was that, we made our way to Ribblehead Viaduct where we are booked in for two nights starting tomorrow anyway. So here we are at The Station Inn (N54.206965 W2.363539°) part of the 'Britstop' scheme, located across the road from the railway station entrance and not too far from the viaduct itself.
We're in a lovely spot and will be able to spend two days hiking in the local area. I will not spoil things by sharing too many pictures of our location this evening, due mainly to the fact that the mist moved in and made it difficult to see any at all.
Because we arrived here a day early we weren't able to get a table for an evening meal and so had takeaways and ate them in the motorhome. The portions were enormous and we had to throw half of it away - about fifteen pounds worth. Never mind, it's still better than being back at 'PikeyWorld'. So just to end this chapter of disappointments - as I sat in the marquee waiting for our takeaways to arrive on two large dishes, a steam train which looked awfully like the Flying Scotsman pulling carriages passed over the viaduct on its way from Carlisle to Settle, presumably on a private 'Special' trip, and I didn't have my camra with me.
I think I will now end this 'chapter' with a final destination shown as 'Settle', mainly because I am limited by the number of characters I can use for a title. This will then tie in nicely to a next chapter consisting of the Yorkshire Dales.
The answer to yesterday's quiz was: