Thornton is quintessentially Yorkshire: stone terraces climbing steep hillsides, mills and moors, bitter beer and dry humour. And Yorkshire folk hate nothing more than wasting brass (spending money extravagantly). We build dry stone walls up in these parts: why waste money on mortar when stones can hold themselves up. And if you have an inconvenient hole in your wall, just find yourself an old dustbin, slit its sides and hammer it out.
And if your wife demands a new bath, there is no need to waste the old one. The sheep need to drink and the bright blue fibre-glass will blend into the grass and stone landscape eventually, after a century or two. But time passes quickly up on these hill-tops; it was only yesterday that the young Bronte children trod these paths. I remember hearing the story of an old farmer who went down into the village to collect his pension for the first time. He arrived at the Post Office at 8.00 am only to be told that it didn't open for another hour. "It's all right mate", he said "it doesn't take me long to wait an hour"
This is the third part of the exploration of Thornton, West Yorkshire by Jennyfreckles and myself. We visited Thornton independently and used our cameras to record our own interpretation of the village. You can see how Jennyfreckles has approached the task by taking a look at her SALT AND LIGHT Blog.