We arrived back in Haworth with plenty of time to pop into the steampunk market and The Fleece Inn for a pint. On returning to the apartment we slipped into something warm and comfortable before braving the rain to walk down to the Coop since we needed to pick up a few bits and bobs to feed us for the rest of the week. We were just crossing the bridge when we were rewarded with the sight of the steam engine being out to bed for the night.

We woke up to glorious sunshine on the Sunday which was perfect for our second super geeky day. We made ourselves look glamorous in our 50s outfits and strutted our stuff down Main Street; in total contrast to the steampunks; and back to the station for our second ride on the train. This time all the way in to Keighley to visit the Keighley Bus Museum for their open day. Another gem of a place for those of us who have a thing for vintage transport. Although we couldn’t climb on the buses in the museum they were running vintage bus rides around Keighley. As it was their open day there were also a fair few vintage cars with a whole display of Morris Minors and Travellers, all in mint condition; how I miss mine; and a dance band so, as ever, we couldn’t resist a bit of a bop. Amanda also managed to get “arrested” by a rather jolly policeman before we took our bus ride around the town. Once we had had our fill of dusty busses and the smell of oil and diesel we headed back to the station where we had a cooling pint in the station pub before catching the train back to Haworth. 

We were strolling up through Haworth Park enjoying the warm sunshine when we spotted the ice cream van selling proper Mr Whippy ice cream. Well of course we had to treat ourselves didn’t we. As we wandered up Main Street we decided it was too early to go back to the apartment so we called in at the Haworth Steam Brewery for a pint or three. We managed to squeeze into a couple of seats where we shared a table with a rather tipsy bloke, his long suffering partner and her very goth daughter. As time wore on his speech became more incoherent, his stories more repetitive and he had managed to corner us so we had no escape. Until I suggested to Amanda, quite forcefully I might add, that it was time for dinner, so we said our goodbyes and left him grinning happily to himself since his companions had already snuck off.  

The weather on Monday morning looked promising as we sat by the window with coffee and toast watching the early walkers setting out. Blue sky, fluffy clouds scudding along and a gentle breeze; perfect for an easy walk over the moors to Brontë Bridge and Top Withens. We finished our breakfast, togged up and set off. I was going to have a play with my camera today. We followed the path up behind the church and came out by a bench, where we made our first stop to divest ourselves of our warm jumpers.

We hadn’t gone far along the next leg of the route when Amanda spotted a dolmen and we had to go and inspect it and take photos of us inspecting it. We continued along the path but didn’t seem to be coming out where we should. I could see the car park we needed to cross to get to the next bit of the footpath but because we had veered off the route to look at the dolmen we were way off course. And to top it all I realised I’d left my tripod on the bench! Thanks to some kindly fellow walkers we were soon back on track and ploughing our way through the heather to reach the main footpath to the bridge. The place was heaving with folk out enjoying the fine weather so we carried on over the bridge and up the other side of the valley to find a quieter spot for our picnic. Which we were just finishing when the hailstorm hit. We quickly donned our waterproofs and waited for the hail to stop before deciding to carry on up to Top Withens. Possibly a mistake but it was well worth the struggle. Not because we made it to the ruin that is supposedly Heathcliffe’s farm despite the persistent rain but for the spectacular views from the top of the moors above, especially when the rain stopped and the sun tried valiantly to come out allowing us to dry out and for me to get some cool and moody cloud shots. We probably; no, definitely; stayed up there a little too long. We made our way back along the Pennine Way, dropping down to the bridge which was now deserted apart from a couple with a teenage daughter; obviously doing the Brontë tour.

We took our boots off and had a paddle in the freezing cold water of the stream, well, it’s the law isn’t it? Just as we were putting our boots back on it started to spot with rain. The other family made a quick exit back the way they’d come. It was then I discovered that I had also lost the hat I’d been wearing all day; the one Amanda had made especially for me so I did backtrack along the path a little but to no avail, it was gone. So that was two things I’d lost, what was to be my third? As it happened it was to be my Nikon. Then the heavens opened and by the time I got back to Amanda; who I’d left sitting under a tree that afforded her no shelter at all from the now torrential rain; the footpath had turned into a waterfall and we had to splash our way through the small river which had been this mornings footpath getting more and more soaked as we went.

We must have looked a sorry sight because the occupants of a car parked the end of the lane wound down the window to enquire if we were ok. We wandered over to reassure them that this was normal for us to find the couple and their daughter sat with the heater going full blast. They’d got caught in the downpour and the poor chap’s jeans had “got so wet I’m having to drive home in my underpants!” Which became the quote of the holiday. We wished them a safe journey and trudged onwards. We hadn’t go far when I recognised the path. We had come back the way we should have gone before we spotted the dolmen. As we passed the bench we had a quick look for the tripod but it had predictably gone. Needless to say, we didn’t call in at the pub as we passed. Back at the apartment we stripped off and had warm showers. It was then I discovered that my trusty Nikon had ceased to be. It was no more. It was dead, defunct, drenched and drowned. Fortunately the SD card was still functioning so I managed to transfer all the photos onto my iPad. I am gutted to say the least. 

Tuesday morning and the rain had disappeared. We drove into Keighley to visit Riddlesden Hall and Cliffe Castle Museum. Riddlesden is a quirky little house with a pretty little garden. We were very taken with the Blackwork embroidery, a curious teapot you filled from the bottom; mass produced by the Rockingham potteries of Swinton near Rotherham in South Yorkshire; and a picture of the most amazing cow, the Airedale Heifer, a monster of a beast measuring over 11 feet in length and weighing over a ton. 

On to Cliffe Castle Museum which, being run by the council, is free, although you can pay a voluntary donation. It is set in a pretty park; a bit like our own Clifton Park in Rotherham; through which we strolled in the sunshine after our visit to the museum. I am definitely going back with the kids this summer. What an absolute gem of a place with room after room of treasures to seek out. I particularly liked the textile timeline exhibit ‘The Evolution Of Life On Earth” by Naomi Parker and the William Morris stained glass. In fact I would go as far as to say it is one of the best museums I have ever visited. The only real downside is the lack of parking nearby.

On the way back from Keighley I began to get a bit concerned about the car. On the way in I’d noticed a bit of a rattle at the front but not really thought much of it. However, on our return journey the rattle seemed to be getting louder and more frequent. My mind went back several years to Paris and I hoped this holiday wasn’t going to end the same way. My fears were almost a reality when, as we were coming into Haworth, there was a sudden clunking sound and something metallic flew from under the car. Heart pounding I slowed right down. I decided to turn around and go and see what had fallen off the car. Paul wouldn’t be very happy if I didn’t. As we neared the debris, which had by now been run over by several cars, I thought I recognised it. It couldn’t be, could it? I pulled over, got out of the car and approached. With a moan of frustration, a sudden flash of memory and a huge sense of relief I picked up what was left of my tripod. It had fallen off the front of the car where I’d plonked it the day before whilst I messed about with my camera; it hadn’t been left on a bench because I’d never had it with me!  Back at the apartment we began our packing ready for an early start the next morning.

We woke early, packed our last bits, loaded the car, had a last sweep of the apartment and handed the keys in to the lady in the shop before doing a little last minute shopping in Haworth. Dangerous having the chocolate shop next door to the apartment and The Cabinet Of Curiosities; full of gloriously scented powders and potions for the discerning witch, mermaid or fey; only a few steps up the hill! We were going to stop off in Halifax for a look around but it was such a pleasant day we decided on a picnic and a final walk round Ogden Water.