Wednesday, 16th June, 2022
I had left packing until the morning we left for Bradford. My packing phobia – what if I forget something? what if my packing takes forever and I miss the train? – is tempered by my eventual realisation that, as long as I had my medications, my phone, and my bank cards, I was going to be fine.
It was Krish who had decided on Bradford. Hard to say why really, and backed up by the number of people who, when I mentioned I was going to Bradford answered with ‘Why?’ or ‘Bradford? Well, I’m game for anything and anywhere really. Nothing to lose.
We’d been watching the weather forecast – rain, then no rain, then cool, then very warm. My preferred weather when going anywhere to explore is 15-21C, not windy, a few light showers OK. We were in for 23C on average. I anticipated lots of rest in between short excursions.
Traffic was crawling as we left Dalston and we decided to get on the tube for the rest of the journey – just one stop. This got us to Kings Cross with about 40 minutes to spare. I spent some time trying to upgrade our journey but the bidding was too high. Our train was at the very far end of the station but we got our seat and were on our way. A three-hour, easy journey with some brunch along the way.
I liked Bradford at first glance. It was more wide open than I’d expected and some of the architecture was quite arresting. It was an easy 10 or 15 minute walk to the hotel too, although the last bit was uphill for a short distance. We checked in, were told that we had to pay extra since I’d booked for only one. I was sure they were wrong but later on discovered they were right – oops. The hotel was a grand one and quite old. It felt official. When we got off the elevator, it took a while to get my bearings. Which way? I had to find a cleaner and ask where to go – ah, I see. But when we walked in we were in a small room with twin beds. Nothing to do but go back down to reception and get a new room and new keys. The ‘right’ room was large and very brown as usual (can the hotels please leave the 70s) with a king bed, bath and walk-in shower as requested. And no fridge. Damn – there go plans to have some food and real milk for tea available.
We rested for just a short while and then wandered around the city centre. There was almost no one around and it was rough – lots of closed shops, lots of aimless and homeless people, indoor markets that had seen better days and no sign of anywhere promising for dinner. The markets were full of Indian places serving deep fried snacks and small crowds sitting together eating.
Bradford has bid for and won city of culture for 2025 and remarked that they had a LONG way to go. I asked Krish where he thought the regeneration might be happening and then we saw where it would be – right next to a market, with hoarding all around….excavating – for something tall, I’m sure. This will be weird for the city, which is stuffed with very old (many, many listed) buildings housing pubs and nail bars and the like. We walked around a few blocks, managed some steep hilly streets, and took in the chaos. ‘It’s beat up and run down,’ I told Krish. He said ‘that’s the same thing’ but I don’t think so.
This isn’t the day we’d go in, but the Wool Exchange is an amazing building – the exterior is soiled but you can’t help noticing all the beautiful detail.
As you leave the Wool Exchange, and before you get to the Midland Hotel, there’s a brand new mall, The Broadway. We picked up a snack and some water and on up the hill to our room.
Now, my first mention of food. Bradford is known as the curry capital of the UK. It has a huge Asian population. How many Asian restaurants would you think there were? Two hundred! That’s what they say. So much curry that, when Krish and I did our usual ‘where to eat’ research, we couldn’t really see anything other than curry. There were a few pubs, some also serving curry, a bunch of burger places, some kebab shops, a couple of fish and chip cafes…one restaurant looked promising – the 1914 in the Alhambra theatre, but sadly it opened only during performances and we’d hit a period where nothing was playing. We did searches for Best Places to Eat in Bradford and Google was great at coming up with places…in Leeds. We were determined to not let this get to us and for the first night we’d 90% decided that we’d go to a nearby pub and have their Giant Yorkshires.
The menu read ‘A giant yorkshire pudding filled with your choice of filling from below, served with rich and tasty home made gravy.’ and below that – Yorkshire Burritos ‘Wonderful home cooked fillings wrapped in a light fluffy giant yorkshire pudding, served with rich and tasty home made gravy.’ We’d been to Yorkshire a couple of times and not been able to find a menu with Yorkshire pudding (very odd) so this is where we had to go.
The City Vaults was once an old (Lloyds) bank built in 1880. This is a grade II listed building on a street intriguingly named Hustlergate. (Hustlergate is named for wool merchant John Hustler (1715-1790) a man credited with turning Bradford from a village into a city, a city which was to become the world centre of the wool textile industry because of his work.
We were an oddity in that pub, which was filled with half-drunken people who seemed at loose ends, many sitting alone. We shared a giant Yorkshire filled with a vinegary (was it red wine?) stew, and a Yorkshire burrito – a YP wrapped around pulled pork, stuffing and apple, accompanied with a large gravy boat. This was a heavy meal really so we didn’t try to eat it all but we’d done it – had a Yorkshire pudding in Yorkshire!
‘Home to bed’ and to ponder the obvious question. Is a Yorkshire pudding done better in Yorkshire? The answer – NO!
I really needed to eat but so many places were closed, till evening or forever. I saw a café that I’d read about and went in. It was so warm and lively in there but every seat was taken so I bought some orange juice and we carried on.
I think Google led me slightly astray!
It was an old train, not very clean, not very busy. And definitely not many masks. Even the ticket inspector wasn’t wearing one. There are four stops -Leicester, Derby, Chesterfield, Sheffield. I confess to not looking out of the window. I watched Last Christmas, or 3/4 of it – terrible. At Leicester someone got off and a woman showed up with a cloth. A millisecond swipe at the table and off she went – wow! At Chesterfield went to the toilet, or tried to buy in the end there were three of us waiting and engaged engaged engaged. A young woman suggested people get in without a ticket, head to the toilet to evade inspection and no one can use it. But waiting there meant I could see the scenery. Green fields giving way to gorgeous old stone houses and scattered old row houses on narrow streets – I was in Yorkshire all right.
Sheffield station isn’t remarkable and there are no maps and no information booths. We headed outside with Krish asking me, which way –Â I’d put him in charge of that since my map reading ability is poor at best and results in confusion all around. We found a map on a board and started walking. We passed some long sheds called interchanges.. People were sitting inside waiting for buses. Ahead was a huge multi-level car park and Krish told me there was a long walk around or we could climb the million steps and go through it. I resigned myself to the steps – maybe five flights on different levels … Gah…. But I did it. On the other side another map and we headed down the road. (Later we discovered that, had we turned the other way, we’d have been looking at our hotel not very far away. Live and learn!)
