The archway was of brick construction and where the mortar had crumbled between the brickwork, delicate clumps of blue and yellow flowers had settled. Streaks of silver paint had been spray painted over some of the flowers creating a psychedelic hue to the foliage.
Once through the archway, I found myself on a cracked tarmac path, leading me around a series of unmown lawns, the tall grass heavy with seed in the late July heat. Eventually the path stopped in front of the ruins of a small country house, which according to the faded explanatory notice, had burnt down mysteriously in the early part of the last century.
One of my favourite stories of all time is M John Harrison's "A Young Man's Journey to Viriconium" (there also exists a version of it called "A Young Man's Journey to London") in which a couple of elderly men have devoted (wasted?) their entire lives to the hunt for a portal to the fantasy city of Viriconium (or London), which they are told is through a mirror in the toilet at the back of a bookshop cafe, somewhere in West Yorkshire.
I wonder if that ‘West Yorkshire somewhere’ is Hebden Bridge? Seems like the right sort of place for a portal in a bookshop. I’m off to look up that story...
The archway was of brick construction and where the mortar had crumbled between the brickwork, delicate clumps of blue and yellow flowers had settled. Streaks of silver paint had been spray painted over some of the flowers creating a psychedelic hue to the foliage.
Once through the archway, I found myself on a cracked tarmac path, leading me around a series of unmown lawns, the tall grass heavy with seed in the late July heat. Eventually the path stopped in front of the ruins of a small country house, which according to the faded explanatory notice, had burnt down mysteriously in the early part of the last century.
Thanks for sharing! I wonder what went on in that mysterious house!
Fabulous!
One of my favourite stories of all time is M John Harrison's "A Young Man's Journey to Viriconium" (there also exists a version of it called "A Young Man's Journey to London") in which a couple of elderly men have devoted (wasted?) their entire lives to the hunt for a portal to the fantasy city of Viriconium (or London), which they are told is through a mirror in the toilet at the back of a bookshop cafe, somewhere in West Yorkshire.
I wonder if that ‘West Yorkshire somewhere’ is Hebden Bridge? Seems like the right sort of place for a portal in a bookshop. I’m off to look up that story...
No, ISTR it's Huddersfield. The story was written way before Hebden Bridge🙂↕️ became Hebden Bridge 😂
*Add Huddersfield* to list of places to visit 😂
I love Huddersfield, it seems to produce more than its fair share of poets.
Also, as you're into walking and writing, you absolutely must check out the work of my friend Kevin the Huddersfield postman ☺️
https://kevinboniface.co.uk/home
Thank you for this inspiration. There's so much mystery around us, if only we look carefully.
Glad you enjoyed it, Caroline! I agree – there’s always something interesting to be found if we look at things the right way.
Love this!
Thanks Lisa. Stay safe out there!