Before I start, can I direct your attention to this wonderful photo in BRAPA’s latest post.

That’s the sort of picture you don’t get in Hebden Bridge, where the pubs are full of beardy hipsters and/or Pashmina Paulines and the lager louts have to take a minibus to drink in Burnley.

What a jewel Hebden is, particularly for a Fen lad like myself. Nature at it’s very best.

Hebden has long been known as the Chorlton of the east (see: BRAPA, this week), due to its vegan stationery and recycled soap shops pushing the average house prices into the stratosphere (well above Accrington, anyway).

But on a sunny Monday in July ALL the visitors were gentlefolk on coach tours from Calderdale, treating the UK’s most alternative town as if it were Whitby or Harrogate.

I haven’t seen a town so busy since 2019; EVERY pub was heaving.

Except my GBG target, the Nightjar, the craft bar tucked into the Arts Cinema.

Despite Facebook claiming it was open at 3, it was firmly shut. I was in despair, having had an earlier attempt to complete West Yorkshire thwarted by a Covid issue the previous month.

So I made do with a pre-emptive in Vocation & Co, a wonderful drop of Pride & Joy, joy I wasn’t feeling.

Lest you think I’m having a go at Nightjar, I’m really not. You should NEVER visit a pub without phoning first, and should definitely never trust Facebook. The owner apologised when I noted the hours error, and I said I’d be back.

And later that week, I was, with Mrs RM for mental support.


  1. It’s funny you should mention veganism in the context of Hebden Bridge, as I was there yesterday and couldn’t help noticing a handwritten sign in the corner of a fish & chip shop window, evidently written by someone fed up with people popping in to ask if they do vegan fish & chips: “We have been frying in beef dripping for 30 years and our fish is haddock.”

    I was strongly tempted to walk in and ask if the person who wrote the sign had, by any chance, a bit of a chip on his shoulder? I restrained myself – it looks like I may have reached adulthood at long last.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s