Open Writing

Spring was in the air; puddles shining in the fitful sunlight; a quick dash in and out of the garden between the showers; a gradual change to lighter clothing; and one's heart sang to welcome the warmer days.

Easter was here and Daddy with us, having a holiday. On Good Friday we invariably had a walk to Longwood Tower, sometimes called Nab End Tower. This is a curious erection, originally built of huge stones, without cement, with a flat platform surrounded by a wall on the top, which is reached by a curving staircase. The stones were all brought from a quarry close by, and it is thought to have been built by a group of young men who were unemployed in a time of slump in the mid-nineteenth century.

On our walk, part of which was through fields to reach this objective, we always had a race. The prize was hot-cross buns! I did not like them, and Daddy was very understanding and promised me a silver sixpence. Needless to say, I usually won the race with this added incentive, which was scarcely fair to the others.

To the right, below the Tower, steps are placed on the rock, forming seats for the annual open-air Sing, one of many held in the neighbourhood. On a certain day, no matter what the weather, people gather under a conductor, and the music of their voices is heightened by the atmosphere and sounds delightful.

The Yorkshire people, like the Welsh, have fine voices and enjoy nothing better than their choirs, the Huddersfield Choral Society being world-renowned, largely through their recordings. The Society celebrated its one hundred and fiftieth anniversary in October 1961, with the admission of Sir Malcolm Sargent as an Honorary Freeman of the Huddersfield County Borough, as a mark of gratitude for nearly thirty years of brilliant conducting. In accepting the honour Sir Malcolm remarked that the Choir "is the best of its kind in the world".

Whitsuntide we particularly enjoyed. Two very long processions or "Walks" were held in the town on Whit Monday and Tuesday, one being organised by the Band of Hope in which the Church of England and nonconformists joined, and the other by the Roman Catholics.

We had the rare delight of hiring a carriage which was posted at a good vantage point at the top of the first half of Fitzwilliam Street, where the procession made a turn from the main road to continue to Greenhead Park. In the Park entertainments and games were arranged for the Sunday School scholars.

We would drive up in good time, all agog, watching the people gathering, pushing and shoving, seeking a good position, and we felt superior in our raised carriage! Presently, we heard the faint sounds of a band in the distance, growing louder and louder until its stirring notes increased our excitement. We saw the drummer leaning backwards with the weight of the big drum and his energetic arm beats; the cymbals clashing melodiously; the trumpeters blowing out their cheeks in their endeavours on the splendid brass instruments.

The band was followed by men carrying large religious banners, beautifully worked in gold thread, depicting Christ, or figures from the Bible, supported on poles from which golden cords with tassels were swinging. Attached to these were ribbon streamers held by children walking, in front of a cart, or wagon, so beautifully decorated it would be hard to guess a vehicle were underneath. These were drawn by one, two, or more gaily decorated and carefully groomed horses, their coats like satin, their manes plaited with ribbon, tails lifted high and again beribboned, and usually the effect was completed by an arch of flowers over their heads. All the traces and appendages were covered in flowers or some other disguise, and the horses made a brave show pulling the heavy wagons with a straining of muscle and sinew, mighty in their power.

Groups of children, in various positions, formed different tableaux on these moving platforms; others walked along the sides and more followed behind holding ribbons like the ones in the front. They were all charmingly clothed in dainty, fresh dresses, with chaplets on their hair. We would exclaim as a particularly fine tableau passed and argue which was the best of the long procession. It was a very satisfying sight, one we never failed to enjoy.

After the last vehicle had moved away, our coachman, stirring up the sleepy-looking horse which had shown never a quiver throughout the proceedings, then turned right, and we moved at a trot up the road to visit the Fixby Golf Club.

It was very pleasant driving along, passing the familiar landmarks, the house of the Misses Dowse, Highfield Chapel, Clayton Fields, and enjoying the fresh green of the trees in Edgerton not yet grey with dust, or sombre in their late summer heaviness. We turned in at the carriage entrance to the Golf Club, past the lodge where we made ourselves known, and along the sandy path between beautiful trees and rhododendron bushes.

It was very quiet for this drive was seldom used, so that we heard no sound save the birds singing, and the horses' hooves and, of course, our own voices! The boys, by now a little less thrilled with their ride and growing restless, would jump out of the carriage, which had no doors, run alongside and in again, until Mummy protested to Daddy that it was dangerous and Daddy, to please her, forbade the boys to continue their lively leaps.

Arriving at the Club House we went to an upstairs room where the long tables were covered by snowy white cloths, and forms were placed, and there we waited in expectancy for the ham and eggs, the large plates of plain and buttered teacakes, home-made buns and fruit salad. We were served by two maids, Florrie and Emily, who had been at the Hall for years, and we were a friendly happy party.

That same evening a Firework Display was held in the Park. On our way we passed a stall selling brandy snap and treacle toffee and paused to make our purchases. In the Park, we took up our position early on the small hill to the left of the roped-in enclosure to watch the brilliant display, particularly enjoying the rockets with the coloured stars showering down, preceded by the loud swish as they soared high in the air. We would draw nearer to see the set pieces, which were very impressive. It was amusing to hear the "ooh's" and "ah's" to which we contributed our full share. We thought it altogether a lovely, lovely day, with a quite thrilling ending.

Many years ago, alas! the processions were disbanded as so much damage was done in the Park that, after warnings, the authorities closed it to these events. Of course, with the horses gone, it had lost a large part of its enchantment. I think we were lucky to have enjoyed these delightful Whit Tuesdays of so long ago.