Sixth series, episode 5

All six series are available here on the HebWeb.

George Murphy writes: "In this episode I've shared my responses to local and world events. So, there's my enjoyment of a park in the valley and doubts on an Energy Park on the tops. There are scrolls about a global decline in reading - probably caused by too much time spent scrolling. There's blossoming gardens and F bombs from Trump. On the hottest day of the year so far, a kind woman on a bike in Old Town, on a scenic ride to lovely Luddenden, told me she liked my stories, so I hope she enjoys the two in this episode."

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Bridge of Sighs

One fine morning, the day after the duck race, I admired the view of the medieval bridge over the River Hebden from the ornate Victorian bridge by the Town Hall. Some of the recent controversy about flood resilience plans are based on fears about how to protect the old pack horse bridge without enclosing it from view.

Walking home, I bumped into two former neighbours. One said, "They're going to chop down all the trees in the park." I said, "I don't think so!" But scare stories about the flood resilience programme are doing the rounds.

We walked through the stone mason's yard and paused on Crow Nest Bridge, which has a large hole on one of the supporting walls caused by flood damage. It's part of the old Hebden Road, which was designated a Byway Open to all Traffic (BOAT), in an act of parliament of 1922, which protected ancient carriageways and permitted travel by newfangled automobiles.

Crow Nest Bridge certainly provided an escape route for us Mayroyd residents, after the Boxing Day flood in 2015, when Mayroyd Lane collapsed due to undermining by a damaged pipe from the canal. Thanks to the Act, flood resilience workers or Canal and River Trust people will presumably need to repair or replace our ancient bridge.

On the day after my natter with former neighbours, Councillor Courtney announced that two more trees had been planted in the park.

Not in their name

One morning, there was a small demo by opponents of the Environment Agency's plans. Some traders complained that the work will damage their livelihoods, due to a loss of parking spaces. But, especially on sunny days, and at weekends, Hebden is regularly crammed with tourists, many of them arriving by public transport rather than in cars. Tour buses head to Happy Valley before going on to the Brontë moorlands and Haworth Parsonage. The stream of tourism money into local communities must form part of the arguments against withering the Wuthering Heights boom. Mind you, the frontman for the proposed Energy Park claims tourists will flock to see all the lovely new giant turbines.

Spring in the garden

One morning, I woke up to the early sunrise, did my plantar fasciitis exercises, took my thyroid, hay fever and Vitamin D tablets, opened the blinds and stepped out onto the balcony.

Spring had spurted into life in the garden, with quince blossom, maple, fatsia japonica, bluebells (Spanish invaders that sailed in on floodwater and have multiplied ever since), dwarf daffodils and shy hellebore all in flower. The hawthorn hedge, planted across the road by the Canal and River Trust in 2016, after they dredged the river, was in full leaf.

I paused for a while before padding back inside to trepidatiously turn on the news … wondering if Trump had carried out his threat to 'Fucking bomb Iran back to the fucking stone age!'

Walshaw Moor

In a TV interview, an employee of the Walshaw Moor Energy Park said that the peat bog on our local moor wasn't worth preserving because it was so badly desecrated. Which made me laugh because it was his boss who presided over the desecration. Anyway, our MP posted online that Ed Milliband's guidelines on the protection of peatbogs will also apply to this application. The final decision on the proposal will be made by The Planning Inspectorate. But, if the worst comes to the worst, they should expect fierce opposition …

A Monologue about a Bog

Back when times were chivalrous,
T' authorities didn't quibble,
If boggarts most carnivorous,
Sometimes had a nibble.
A traveller strayed from t' springy heath,
Then heard demonic roars,
Soon his bones lay underneath,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors.

But when a lord wor exercising,
His favourite hunting horse,
And t' Boggart, materialising,
Ate a double course,
Nobles said in consternation,
`We'll have to write new laws,
T' Boggart's bit above his station,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors!"

When an alternative witch,
By name Morgan le Fay,
With spells for bog and ditch,
(She lived down Hebden way),
Said, "Pro biotic yoghurt,
And other natural cures,
Will pacify that Boggart
In t' blanket bog on t' moors."

T' Boggart, all crepuscular,
At twilight left his lair,
Returning, big and muscular,
Found Morgan sat in t' chair.
"Ah know tha needs, old Butch!" quoth she.
"My supper!" He guffaws.
"No! What tha need's a woman's touch,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors!"

And then that witch contrarian,
Through spells and incantations,
Turned him vegetarian,
But don't tell his relations.
Next spell she cast for heavy sleep,
(Some say they've heard his snores)
Used t' clever trick of counting sheep,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors.

And right through t' next millennium,
A thousand shears of fleece,
With pleasant dreams about his mum,
He slept through war and peace.
Till underground he heard a sound
Of revving 4 by 4s,
And his disturbance wor profound,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors.

For bulldozers wor digging gunge,
On t' orders o't new boss.
"This bog is like a massive sponge,
Let's burn off sphagnum moss!"
But after burning, loss of heat,
And t' Boggart knew what caused
Him having frozen hands and feet,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors!

And to t' new owners of our moors,
T' government gave great wealth,
"For improving The Great Outdoors,
In t' time for The Glorious Twelfth."
And some o't moors wor burned and drained,
But fear made t' workers pause.
As t' Boggart's warren still remained,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors!

Now, what goes up, must come down,
So with evaporation,
And folks down in all t' valley towns
Received an inundation!
First one flood and then another
Burst through each water course,
But t' Boggart stayed down undercover,
In t' blanket bog on t' moors …

Till, just as t' sense of grievance nagged,
Came news of a record kill:

A Shooting Party: Boggart Bagged!

High up on t' Boggart Hill!
Most said, `It's what t' hunters deserved.'
And t' Boggart felt no remorse,
For each hunter wor well preserved -
In t' blanket bog on t' moors!

As Inspector said, at local station –
Hunters families to sweeten –
"Except in terms of education,
None of them wor Eaten!"
And then laughter he stifled,
A credit to t' local force,
When asked where t' Boggart shoved all t' rifles –
And did he shout, "UP YOURS!?"

And don't dismiss this fantasy,
Because folklore and mystery,
Connect us to our history.
And back down t' hill,
Each Jack and Jill –
Shopkeepers with empty tills,
Homeowners with insurance bills,
And waiters who'd stopped earning –
Said, "That's our bog they're burning!"
And scientists with detailed log,
And you and I are going to dog
All those who desecrate our bog!

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling

PW alerted me to Amol Rajan's Radical Podcast: The Reading Recession, Are We Making Ourselves Less Intelligent? Where he traces the historical relationship between reading, intelligence and democracy. Rajan cites research from Sweden that shows cohorts of students from previous generations scored higher in IQ tests than recent groups of students.

So, I did some scrolling …

In The Economist, (September, 2025) they asked, Is the Decline of Reading Making Politics Dumber? A YouGov poll found that 40% of Britons had not read or listened to any books in 2024! One of the worries is that potential voters will only refer to social media and biased websites before placing the crosses. If young people don't read any non-fiction, they won't learn to weigh the merits of different opinions or be able to argue for their own.

As for fiction, George R. R. Martin (along with many before him) noted, 'A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives one.'

Wolf Hall

I've just finished the Hilary Mantel trilogy. The Tudors would be my present wife's special subject on Mastermind. She rarely reads historical fiction, but Mantel's masterpiece had her hooked. When I finally got round to it, I also loved the novels, despite my lifelong grudge against the Tudors and their supposedly god chosen kings and queens. The Mantel trilogy, told through the eyes of Thomas Cromwell, shows Henry 8th's willingness to employ hangings, decapitations and disembowellings when people displeased him. Both cardinals and kings used torture, whilst maintaining that they were trying to save the souls of their victims.

Over the Easter weekend, as some friends professed their faith online, I remembered enjoying the bible stories we were told at school. And back then I loved Jesus. Those stories will stay with me for life, as will Mantel's portrayal of the brilliant but nefarious, polyglot Thomas Cromwell, who knew what every monastery was earning and could recite every word in the Old Testament.

Back then, not long after losing my belief in Father Christmas, I determined that I would never pretend to believe in God, nor govern my life by thinking he was watching my every living moment.

Another one bites the dust

Liana Fix and Benjamin Harries of the Council for Foreign Relations, reckoned the massive election defeat of Prime Minister Victor Orban was a huge blow against illiberalism. "Voters appeared unconvinced by the claims made by Orban and his party … that Ukraine and the EU were Hungary's greatest threats. After 16 years, it seems that Hungarian voters were primarily concerned about the economy and corruption … The incoming prime minister has promised to put an end to Russian influence in Hungary … The one question that lingers surrounds energy: Hungary has remained a major consumer of Russian hydrocarbons … (but) Orban's defeat is a major loss for the far right in Europe."

We've enjoyed watching

The Assembly

I missed the first series, but so far we've both watched Steven Fry and Nicola Sturgeon answer questions from autistic, neurodivergent, and learning disabled interviewers. It was moving to see the former SNP leader's emotional response to a question about her unborn child. And after being scolded for snorting cocaine at Buckingham Palace, Fry was asked by a gay questioner, whether he was a 'top or bottom man'. I thought for a moment that he would say, he preferred to keep those matters private, but he caught his breath … and then wryly said that variety was the spice of life.

We also loved The Secret Garden, David Attenbrough's new series, which in the first episode starred Doris the Duck as she tried to protect her ducklings from a hungry river otter.

The birds and the bees

Now, hives are full of bees, but here's the sting … Why is there a queen but not a king?

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