Fixing the roof – how civic societies can keep it together

Don’t lose your slates!

When’s the best time to fix the roof? In the summer, when the sun is shining, or in the winter, when it’s pouring with rain?

Now, you might argue that the winter is the best time – after all, if it’s raining, you can see where the problems are while in the summer, when there’s no indication of any problems, you just want to relax and enjoy the good times.

In some ways, this analogy is akin to the coronavirus epidemic. Before it hit, we were all getting on with our lives and not really thinking about storm clouds on the horizon. But then the virus emerged and life, as we knew it, changed for everyone, and suddenly we had to start fixing the roof.

My point here is that events can overtake any of us, unexpected and unbidden at any time. Some events will be relatively minor – no more than a slipped slate or roof tile – but others will be much more serious and have huge consequences – more akin to the whole roof coming off. Coronavirus definitely falls into the latter category.

So, how prepared were you for the calamity that has beset us? I’m talking here about how equipped your civic society was to manage its way through the situation. How agile and resilient is your society to keep going through the current emergency?

As some readers will know, I’ve been ‘involved’ in the civic society movement for over 30 years and I’ve seen a lot of changes over that time. Some societies have been on the front foot (and I’d like to count my own society among that number) while others have been much more hesitant and, indeed, resistant to change.

I became a member of Wakefield Civic Society in 1989 having already enjoyed some of their outings and events prior to taking out membership. In April 1990, I agreed to join the Society’s Executive Committee and then, in 2002, I became its president. When I first joined the committee, minutes and newsletters were printed using a typewriter and copied using an old-fashioned duplicator. They were then assembled, put in envelopes and hand delivered or posted to members, a time-consuming and costly process. Electric typewriters and eventually computers were introduced but ‘modern technology’ was still a minority sport.

When I became president, I decided to ‘modernise’ by getting everyone on the committee to use email. It took some effort to convince people that this was the future and some people never made it on-line; they either retired or passed away without ever using a computer. But we pushed forward, extending email distribution of our newsletters and other information to our wider membership. Over the years, we have moved from having just a handful of members on email to the position we are in today, where we have over 95% of our membership now receiving their news from us by email. On top of that, we have a website and make full use of social media – yes, we are on Facebook, Twitter and now Instagram.

These channels allow us to communicate not just with our members, but with a much wider audience – stakeholders, partners and the general public. We do, of course, still keep in touch with members who are not on email. This is usually by post (and sometimes telephone) but occurs less frequently than for those on email.

The coronavirus epidemic changed everything. We have had to cancel all our events for the time being which is a considerable blow and will affect our ability to fundraise and attract new members. However, we have not stopped working. We continue to talk to our members, mostly by email of course, but we are using social media too. Oh, and we have just opened a Zoom video conferencing account which has enabled the committee to see and speak to each other at our monthly committee meetings. Once you get used to the technology, it’s actually good fun to ‘see’ people in this way. On 23rd April, we even held the Society’s Annual General Meeting using Zoom. It was a much-slimmed down version of our usual AGM and we asked for volunteers from the membership to take part. The important thing is that we did it and that enabled us to do the legal stuff we have to do to comply with the requirements of our constitution and also the Charity Commission.

One benefit from the experiment is that it has given us confidence to start experimenting with more on-line communication, possibly even putting short videos on-line. It’s early days yet, so we are not sure exactly what we are going to be doing, but it clearly won’t be business as usual. We need to be innovative if we are going to stay relevant.  We certainly don’t want people to forget we are here!

So, by fixing the roof while the sun shone – by which I mean moving on-line early on and then, over the years, building up communication lines with members and others through a variety of channels, we were reasonably well-placed for when the weather turned bad. Who knows, even after lockdown ends and the need for social distancing is reduced, we may continue to apply some of the new methods we are adopting now.

Video conferencing might not always be the way we would prefer to work, but it’s a really useful facility. In fact, so many people are using it that I now find myself taking part in meetings with people across the country to the point where my diary is once again filling up – and the real beauty of it is the convenience and low cost. I no longer need to do a two-to-three-hour commute to get to a meeting in London, say, and then repeat the journey to get home, taking a whole day out of my calendar and a wodge of cash out of my wallet.

I’d like to think that the civic society movement has cottoned on to the benefits of technology and that civic societies are firing on all cylinders still. Sadly, though, I know that’s not always true and I have heard from a few people who don’t know how they will keep things going over the next few months. Well, now is the time to start experimenting. Open that Twitter account, think about video conferencing and try to get email addresses for as many of your members as you can.

Don’t worry too much about getting things wrong to begin with; we all make mistakes in the early days, and you can always ask others for help if you get stuck. One useful tip is that you can often find on-line tutorials on YouTube for almost anything you need help with (some better than others!). They have certainly helped me on a number of occasions!

Now, I know that some of you will say ‘most of our members aren’t on-line, so there’s no point’ and you’ll shrug your shoulders and do nothing. I’ve encountered that reaction so many times over the years! But you have to start at some point and now is as good a time as any – it’s not as if you’ll be going anywhere, is it? Take the plunge – start a tweeting, ask your committee to join you in a video conference, start broadcasting to the world about what you are doing!

And while I am not advocating that you abandon your members who are not on-line, think about the future of your society. Is the future of the civic society movement going to be based on an outdated model of printing and posting newsletters to a predominantly older membership group, or is it going to be based on attracting lots of new members who are geared up and wired for both sound – and video?

Is our future behind us?

53 Northgate, Wakefield, as it is today – Fino Pizzeria and Cicchetti, showing the new front added to this c. 15th century building in the 1990s. Before this, it looked like the building next door to the right of the picture but its appearance today is perhaps closer to how it originally looked.

I’m going to go out on a limb here; bear with me.

As President of Wakefield Civic Society, I often find myself being asked to comment on what sort of city Wakefield should aspire to be, particularly given the apparent decline in retail and the empty shops to be seen on the high street (a problem which besets many towns and cities, of course, not just Wakefield). We need to envisage what sort of place Wakefield could be and what it can offer for residents and visitors if it is to retain any sense of vibrancy and vitality.

Creating that vision for Wakefield isn’t quite as easy as it looks. In trying to think about the future, it’s only natural to think about the past. What makes the city unique and distinctive, certainly in terms of the physical fabric of the buildings and street layout, is steeped in its history.

We know that Wakefield has existed as a place of settlement for over a thousand years (it was mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086). It made its reputation (and much of its money) through the textile industry, quarrying, coalmining and, of course, as a market town. It was a centre for both trade and administration and, in the 19th century, prior to the arrival and eventual dominance of the railways, it was a thriving inland port. In 1472, King Edward IV of England established the Council of the North, an administrative body created not only to maintain the king’s peace in the North but also to stimulate economic growth. The Council of the North was based in Sheriff Hutton and Wakefield (Sandal Castle) before finally moving to York. Later, Wakefield became the administrative capital of the West Riding of Yorkshire

Peter Brears’ book – the front cover features an illustration showing how the bread booths on Bread Street might have looked.

As such an important centre in both commercial and administrative terms, it is perhaps not surprising that the streets and yards were lined with some fairly impressive buildings. A new book, The Buildings of Tudor and Stuart Wakefield, by historian Peter Brears (£19.95, published by Wakefield Historical Publications) reveals just how fine those medieval buildings were. (The book is, incidentally, a really useful resource for anyone interested in the history of the city and one I can wholeheartedly recommend.)

The Black Swan in Silver Street, Wakefield

Sadly, many of those timber-framed buildings are lost to us having been demolished to make way for new properties more suitable to the ‘modern age’. Few examples remain but the Black Swan in Silver Street has managed to hang on, looking more or less as it might have done back in the day, while other survivors are a little less obvious, having been hidden by more recent stone or brick fronts. Such an example is the run of buildings at 53-57 Northgate which at one time would have been one house, according to Brears’ book, but which was subsequently divided into separate properties. No. 53 was given a replica front in the early 1990s to take it back to how it might have looked in the 15th century (plate glass windows notwithstanding) while its neighbours retain the stone fronts (see photo above).

Pastiche? Certainly. But people seem to love it and behind that relatively new front, itself now nearly 30 years old, their lies a genuinely old building, that dates back to at least the fifteenth or early 16th century. The year ‘1596’ moulded into the plaster ceiling of the upper floor is probably the date of an internal re-ordering carried out maybe a hundred years or so after the house was first built.

The former Golden Cock Inn, 31 Westgate, Wakefield. Demolished in 1963.

In Westgate, there stood the Golden Cock Inn. This early 17th century building stood for over 300 years, eventually being demolished in 1963 and some readers may well remember it, not as a pub but as a couple of shops. According to Brears’  book, the building was recorded in photographs as it was taken down and at least some of the timbers were taken into store by Wakefield Museum so that the building could be re-built at some point in the future.

Well, that rebuilding hasn’t happened – and I have no idea whether the timbers have survived. But what if they have? Could the building be recreated? Even if none of the original timbers survive or are usable, would it be viable to build a copy of the Golden Cock Inn and possibly other buildings that have been lost to us?

There is the problem of finding somewhere to erect such buildings. The Golden Cock Inn certainly couldn’t go on the original site – that is now occupied by modern shops – albeit of fairly undistinguished design, typical of the 1960s. So a new site would need to be found – but that shouldn’t be too difficult; there are plenty of empty plots in the city centre, many used as ‘temporary’ car parks.

The site of the Golden Cock Inn as it looks today.

If you follow the conversations about Wakefield that take place on social media, you will be aware that there is huge interest in the history of the city and its built heritage – both in the buildings that are extant and the ones now extinct. Many people, it seems, would like to go back to the past, at least for a poke around. Some very much regret the passing of the buildings that we have lost. Photos are poured over and memories shared. All too often, the developers, planners and councillors who presided over this post-war destruction of our city centre get the blame – sometimes a little harshly: the Victorians probably demolished as much of the city centre as did the planners and developers of the post-war period (although the Victorians replaced the buildings they destroyed with new edifices that are aesthetically pleasing and which have stood the test of time in contrast to much of our 1960s’ ‘cookie-cutter’ architecture.

Now, I don’t really want to suggest that Wakefield’s future lies entirely in the past. We need to be a thoroughly modern, digitally connected city that is outward looking and facing up to the challenges ahead. But we also need to create the sort of city centre that is attractive to residents and appealing to visitors. We should be looking to create, or more accurately, recreate, the local distinctiveness we have been in danger of losing in recent years: let’s make something which people will take to their hearts and be proud of; something in fact that they will not only want to see for themselves but will want to show off to their friends and family who have the bad luck to live somewhere else!

One way of doing this would be to rebuild perhaps just one street with replicas or reconstructions of some of the timber-framed houses and shops that would have once been so evident across the city. Whether they be used as museum pieces for people to explore or as premises for people to live in and work from I leave for future discussion. Done well (and avoiding what I sometimes call ‘the Disneyfication of heritage’ – none of this ‘Ye Olde Worlde’ nonsense please!), the project could have great potential to stimulate interest not only in our own history but in history and architecture more generally. There could be school projects linked to the enterprise; community workshops, writing and art classes and so on. Heavens, there might even be a TV series in it. Visitors would come a-flocking, I’m sure.

Now, I’m not usually one for suggesting we build old stuff (and if I was, I’d be recommending we go for something in Art Deco rather than medieval style), but horses for courses and as a learning and research project that could involve the community, I’m in.

If there’s anyone out there with the resources and enthusiasm to make this happen and the clout to make it a reality, I’ll be right behind you….

A Question of Identity

Identity (noun): the characteristics that determine who or what a person, thing (or place) is.

Sounds straightforward, doesn’t it? We recognise people, things and places by their identifying and sometimes unique characteristics. While we might not spend much time thinking about it, we all, to some extent or other, shape our own identities not only as individuals but also as members of wider groups and organisations through the roles we take on.

What we wear, what we say and do, the values and beliefs we hold, the interests and hobbies we follow, how we vote, where we live, where we work: all are part of our identity. Some of these characteristics are mutable, changing over time with the passing fashions (as we give ourselves a bit of a makeover) or because of changes in our circumstances. Meanwhile, other aspects of our identity are such an intrinsic part of our nature that they just are: the colour of our skin, our eyes and the (natural) colour of our hair, for example. Taken together, all these aspects of our identity affect not only how we see and understand ourselves but also how others see, and know, us.

Developing brand identity

This is also true for organisations and businesses where branding, design and marketing play such a large part in establishing the identity and reputation of the goods and services they have to offer. However, in an increasingly global economy, making sense of a brand’s identity can be more complicated than it first appears. You only have to think of famous British car marques such as Rolls Royce, Bentley and Jaguar, none of which is any longer British owned, to see the problem. Does foreign ownership, and possibly foreign manufacture (even if only of some of the parts), make these brands less British? Do the name and brand transcend such factors as ownership and place of origin, or do foreign ownership and manufacture trammel any claim to Britishness?

Like for Like – but is it the same?

The loss of the Glasgow School of Art’s Mackintosh Building to fire in June 2018, just a few months ahead of its scheduled re-opening following the earlier fire of 2014, was a terrible blow, not only to the institution and the city but also to anyone who admires the work of Charles Rennie Mackintosh (1868-1928). As we now know, some parts of the surviving structure were so badly damaged that they were deemed unstable and had to be taken down. The good news is that there appears to be sufficient enthusiasm (and presumably funding) to see the building rise from the ashes yet again. But will it be the same: will its ‘identity’ survive or will the new building and its contents be no more than copies of what was lost?

The Mackintosh Building isn’t the first ‘heritage asset’ to be damaged by fire and no doubt it won’t be the last. When significant buildings in the public eye are damaged, undertakings to rebuild and restore often follow, subject to money being found to cover the costs – and those costs will be substantial – vide Notre Dame Cathedral. Re-instating architectural features takes time and craftsmanship which can be hugely expensive; repairing, re-making or sourcing suitable replacement furnishings, fabrics and artworks likewise. Inevitably, people ask whether or not the expense is really justified, particularly when there are so many other causes that require funding and investment.

The National Trust suffered a major fire at Uppark in 1989 and initiated a major restoration project. When HM The Queen suffered her own annus horribilis in 1992 culminating in the fire at Windsor Castle, a restoration project was launched – and the result is possibly better than the original. However, after the fire at Clandon Park in 2015 (also National Trust), a decision was taken to rebuild and reimagine the property, rather than to faithfully restore it, at least in the short-term.  

While there is a strong case to be made for rebuilding and restoration after serious loss, we need to keep in mind that what we are left with after restoration work is completed won’t be what it was before. No matter how carefully the work is done and no matter the trouble and care taken to source authentic materials and to use original building methods, the newly restored building or artefact will to some extent be a copy of what was there before. It might look the same, it might even be better than what was there before, but it won’t be the same as what was there before. What does this say for the historical significance of the building (or an artefact) that has been restored? Can it claim to be what it once was? Is its identity intact or has it in some way been transmuted?

Antique or reproduction?

The antique trade is a mix of authentic antiques, copies (which may themselves be antique in origin) modern reproductions and, occasionally, fraudulent fakes. If you know what you are looking at, all is well, particularly if you’re thinking of buying it. The problems arise when modern copies (or fakes) are passed off as originals. Sometimes, a reproduction or copy will suffice for our needs, especially if the item is offered at a big discount over the cost of an original item. And copies can achieve their own identity: Michelangelo’s sculpture of David outside the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence is probably seen and photographed more frequently, despite being a replica, than the original which has been located in the Galleria dell’Accademia since 1873. Visit a stately home and it’s not unheard of to find yourself looking at a copy of an artwork, the original having been auctioned off to raise funds for the family that once lived in the house or to pay for restoration work to the property.

A new broom

There are different versions of this ‘thought experiment’ but they raise the same basic conundrum about identity. In the simplest terms the discussion can be based on what happens with a yard broom. If the head wears out and is replaced, it’s still the same yard broom and good for a few more years. But what happens when you eventually need to replace the handle as well? Is it still the same yard broom when it has acquired both a new head and then later a new handle? Is it the usage that gives it the provenance rather than the parts? What if you kept the old head and then attached it to the old handle so you had a second broom made of the original parts: which one is the more authentic yard broom?

Genius Loci

The identity of a place arises in part from its geography and location, and in part from its history and traditions, often made visible through its architecture, street layout and so on. People imbue a place with cultural and social resonance (and sometimes, dissonance): they give a place character, memory and personality. Collectively, these factors create what we might call local distinctiveness.  But such qualities change over time. As traditional skills and industries wain and perhaps disappear or demographic change occurs, our towns and cities change and evolve too. They always have, and they always will. Old buildings get demolished or repurposed, new housing gets built, sometimes on a massive scale, and new infrastructure is laid out.

Local versus Global

Within the civic society movement, I’d like to think that we have a role to play in shaping or maintaining the local distinctiveness of the places where we live – but it’s not getting any easier! Is it even possible to preserve the local distinctiveness when national housebuilders seem intent on using the same standard designs right across the land, or when high streets and retail parks feature the same identikit store chains, each with their own national and sometimes international branding? One Ikea warehouse looks very much like any other Ikea warehouse with their blue sheds and yellow lettering wherever they are built in the world.

In fact, as we accept the benefits of global consumerism, should we just give up on the idea of local identity and distinctiveness? Should we be prepared to forsake the notion of local identity and admit that the new vernacular isn’t local but global?

After all, the general population, and I count our civic society members among them, seems willing to drive cars that look the same across the world; to wear globally branded clothing; to rely on a few big international companies to supply their technology; and their tastes in food are increasingly cosmopolitan, as evidenced by the range of foodstuffs that are now available on the shelves of our supermarkets and the variety of restaurants in our high streets that offer culinary styles from around the world.

Yes, let’s make life easy for ourselves! Let’s abandon notions of local identity and, in accepting that we are all part of one human race, embrace an international design code, even if that means one town or city will increasingly look like the next? If all our towns and cities look alike, at least we’ll no longer need to travel to see them all, which should do wonders for our carbon footprint!

[This is an updated version of an article I originally wrote for the Summer 2018 edition of Society Insight, the newsletter of YHACS, the Yorkshire and Humber Association of Civic Societies.]

My Night at The Midland

The Midland Hotel, Morecambe, at night

Anyone with an interest in Art Deco will probably already know the story of the Midland Hotel in Morecambe and how, after years of decline, neglect and dereliction, the building, which originally opened in 1933, was brought back into use in 2008 by Urban Splash following a five-year restoration programme. Today, this four-star luxury hotel is managed on behalf of Urban Splash by English Lakes Hotels.

Being a fan of Art Deco myself, I’ve long wanted to stay at the hotel and a recent holiday on the Isle of Man afforded me the perfect opportunity (excuse) to book myself a night at the Midland as a stopover en route to my Manx adventure. One sunny afternoon in August, therefore, my partner and I headed west and, rather fittingly as the hotel was originally built by the Midland Railway Company as their ‘station hotel’, we travelled by train.

The building today is the second ‘Midland Hotel’ on this site as it replaces an earlier hotel which opened in 1848. That first hotel was called the North Western after the North Western Railway company that built it to provide accommodation and facilities for people arriving in Morecambe by train, either for a seaside holiday or to catch one of the ferries that sailed from the newly opened harbour there. As the harbour was tidal and boats could only enter and leave at high tide, passengers waited at the hotel for their sailing, taking rooms or just relaxing and possibly having some refreshment.

The name of the hotel was changed to the Midland Hotel sometime after the North Western Railway Company amalgamated with the Midland Railway Company in 1871. When, in 1904, the Midland Railway transferred first its freight and then its passenger operations to a new deep-water port at Heysham, not subject to the vagaries of the tide, it could have been the end of the hotel but in fact, the hotel continued to attract business and remain profitable. However, structural repairs became necessary and it was eventually decided to demolish and re-build rather than repair and refurbish but the new hotel was to be in the ‘modern style’.

The hotel’s distinctive modernist design, sometimes referred to as ‘International’ or ‘Liner’ style, but more commonly grouped under the ‘Art Deco’ label, speaks the language of glamour and elegance. The architect was Oliver Hill who commissioned sculptor Eric Gill to create the distinctive seahorse sculptures that stand high up on either side of the entrance tower as well as friezes and a ceiling medallion while Marion Dorn created a mosaic image of a seahorse for the floor of the lounge area as well as designing rugs for the lounge and lobby areas. (The seahorse was adopted as the emblem for the hotel and is to be found throughout the building.)

The Seahorse emblem can be found throughout the hote

The hotel was an instant sensation and appealed to a well-off clientele which included not just holidaymakers, but businesspeople and celebrities of the day, including actors and musicians appearing at the nearby Winter Gardens. However, the hotel’s fate was sealed with the outbreak of World War II when it was requisitioned by the government to provide offices for the RAF and also to serve as a military hospital. Although it was derequisitioned in 1946, it was not until extensive repairs were completed that the hotel re-opened in July 1948. The hotel continued to trade but was sold off by then owner British Railways in 1952 and gradually lost its way due to the rise of the package holiday. By the end of the 20th century, after a number of changes of ownership, the building was looking very run-down and a failed restoration proposal led to the building standing empty with the prospect of demolition being mooted until Urban Splash acquired it in 2003.

But back to the present and my own stay at the hotel.

Gleaming in the sunshine

When the hotel was first built, the station was just across the road but today the line stops short, the original station building having been turned into a visitor destination with shops attached, and there is now a walk from the new station to the hotel of approximately a quarter of a mile. Nonetheless, as we walked out of the station that afternoon, the hotel could easily be seen, glistening white in the sunshine against a clear blue sky – an ocean liner awaiting its passengers. Walking up to the hotel, my excitement mounted: entering through the double glass doors into the spacious foyer and lounge area is like simultaneously stepping back in time while also walking onto the stage set of a Hollywood movie. The refurbishment has retained the look and feel of the hotel as it was in its heyday even though some of the components have been re-arranged. Art deco-style furniture, fittings and artwork are complimented by more contemporary pieces, but the overall effect is definitely classy and welcoming.

Having checked in and dropped off our luggage in our room, we headed to the Ravilious Rotunda Bar for something to eat. The bar takes its name from artist Eric Ravilious whose talents were employed to create murals on the walls of the original café. Sadly, they were lost only a few years after they were completed having been painted onto walls whose plaster had not fully dried out and problems with damp caused the murals to deteriorate. Although repaired by Ravilious himself, they were eventually painted over. Today, modern interpretations take their place.

The Rotunda Bar friezes
The staircase

Later that evening, having freshened up, we descended the grand spiral staircase which cantilevers out from the wall (it is impossible not to feel a little like a film star as you make your way down to the lobby!) and entered the Sun Terrace Restaurant where we were shown to our table. It was dazzlingly bright in there as the full-height windows allowed light from the setting sun to stream in. Many of the diners were in fact wearing sunglasses as they sipped their wine, giving a certain ‘Riviera feel’ to the occasion.

The restaurant with views across the bay

We had a delicious and leisurely three-course meal with wine, as we watched passing promenaders taking the evening air. Some smiled and waved – almost as if we were indeed on an ocean liner waiting to set sail from the quayside. The tide was slowly coming in as the sun gradually lowered itself in the sky, turning from bright yellow to amber and then deep red before setting behind the distant mountains of the Lake District across the far side of the bay.

After dinner, I went for a stroll around the outside of the building in the still warm air, looking in at people drinking in the bar and the last diners lingering over their post-prandial brandies in the dining room. By night, the building is every bit as impressive as in the daylight: the whiteness of the walls tinged slightly yellow in the streetlamps but still bright and unmistakable. It had been a perfect evening: I almost needed to pinch myself to confirm that while I might well have been living the dream, I was by no means dreaming!

The following morning, after breakfast served in the Sun Terrace Restaurant, it was time to check out, an ambition fulfilled, and to make our way back to the station to catch the train to Heysham and our awaiting ferry to the Isle of Man, but I’ll save that story for another time.

Need to know:

The Midland Hotel, Morecambe – LA4 4BU. Tel: 01524 424 000 (direct) or 03304 042 677 (for reservations via English Lakes).

Website: https://englishlakes.co.uk/the-midland/

[If you’d like to read more about the hotel’s history and redevelopment, there’s an excellent book that I can recommend: The Midland Hotel: Morecambe’s White Hope by Barry Guise and Pam Brook published by Palatine Books.]

The Northern Belle

Travelling back in time – in which I take a train ride back to the ‘golden age’ of luxury travel to experience fine dining aboard the Northern Belle luxury train.

The Northern Belle – Photo courtesy of the company

The Northern Belle was originally launched in 2000 by Belmond, the company that runs the Venice Simplon Orient-Express (VSOE) and offers a similar standard of service and comfort to its European cousin. With its Pullman carriages and offer of fine dining experiences, the train epitomises the golden age of rail travel.

The train runs day excursions from various departure points around Britain and special events such as trips to the races.  Since 2017, it has been owned by Yorkshire businessman David Pitts who lives in Thurstonland and whose advertising business, DP Publicity (DPP), is based in Wakefield.

Although redolent of 1930s glamour, the Northern Belle isn’t quite what it seems! It actually consists of former British Railways carriages from the 1950s and 60s but they have been extensively and sympathetically re-engineered, refurbished and ‘retro-fitted’ to resemble the Pullman cars of the ’30s. They come complete with beautiful marquetry work, specially commissioned from the family firm of A Dunn and Son of Chelmsford in Essex. This company created panelling on some of the original Orient Express coaches as well as on the Pullman cars used in a number of the famous ‘Belle’ trains of the ’20s and ’30s including the much-loved Brighton Belle.

But enough background – let’s get back to my trip – a day out taken in July 2019!

A very early start!

When we arrived at Kirkgate Station in Wakefield, somewhat bleary-eyed as it was only 6.15am, we were greeted by a representative of the company who checked our names on her list and directed us over to Platform 2 where, in due course, we were joined by over 30 other guests. The train arrived on time and we found our carriage. In true Pullman tradition, each of the dining cars is given a name. In this case, the carriages are named after castles and stately homes, and our seats were to be found in ‘Alnwick’. We were shown to our seats by Thomas, one of the train managers, who then introduced us to Adam, our senior steward for the day (each carriage has dedicated stewards) and assistant steward, Paddy. No sooner were we seated than we were offered a ‘refreshing’ and sparking Bellini. It was only 6.55am but, yes please, I didn’t mind if I did! As the train made its way to our next pick-up point in Huddersfield, we sat back and relaxed while the bubbles did their work.

After gathering more passengers at Huddersfield, the train moved on towards Manchester Victoria for our third and final pick up. While we crossed through, and sometimes under, the Pennine terrain (including travelling through the three-mile long Standedge Tunnel), brunch was served. To start, there was natural yoghurt with ginger-seeped apricots, homemade granola and honey. Next, there was a cooked dish consisting of Bubble and Squeak, spinach and a vegetable ragù. (The non-vegetarians had Scottish Haddock with all the trimmings.) To finish, there was a selection of breads and cakes from the bakery basket and copious quantities of tea and coffee were served throughout.  

Somewhere in the middle of working our way through all that, we picked up the final passengers at Manchester and then made our way, via Crewe, to Stratford upon Avon, the train’s final destination, pulling in at around 12.15pm. Here, the passengers divided. Most had opted to spend the afternoon in the town whereas a group of around 30 of us were taken by coach to Warwick Castle for an afternoon visit. Two and a half hours later, we were on our way back to the train.

Adam, our carriage steward, waiting to welcome us back on board in Stratford on Avon.

The Northern Belle looked absolutely splendid as we arrived back in Stratford. All along the length of the train, doors were open, welcome mats were laid out along the platform and our uniformed staff stood to attention to receive us back on board. The train had been transformed once again and we regained our seats to discover that the tables had been laid ready for the five-course dinner with wine that was to come: beautiful fine china, some still bearing the VSOE legend, elegant glassware, and polished cutlery all glinting in the late afternoon light.

As the train pulled out of the station, we were offered a glass of champagne and canapés and before long, dinner was served. This comprised of a salad of goat’s cheese, pickled beets, and bread to start followed by a vegetable Wellington for main course. (The standard menu was Hot smoked salmon to start and a chicken and ham dish for mains.) Then came the cheese board, followed by dessert – a ‘summer berry Pimm’s jelly, elderflower and lemon verbena cream, and candied orange’. To conclude, there was coffee with petits fours. All the food was prepared on board by head chef, Matthew Green (who comes from Barnsley, continuing the ‘northern theme’) and his team.

Champagne and canapés are served before dinner….

Dinner is served at a leisurely pace with ample opportunity to talk to the stewards and train managers – even fellow passengers if you’re feeling sociable – and it was noticeably much more sociable on board after the champagne and the wine! The train returned along a different route from that taken on the outward journey so there was plenty to see in the evening sunshine as we made an unhurried return to Wakefield – the first dropping off point – and we arrived back all too soon at around 8.20 pm. We deboarded and watched as the train rolled out of the station on its way back to Huddersfield, and then Manchester, slightly envious of those passengers who had remained on board. But for us, the day was over – a short walk home and it was time to put the feet up, bask in the memories of a wonderful day and wonder what to have for supper…….sadly, there were no stewards on hand to serve it!

Need to know:

The Northern Belle will be making several other trips to various destinations from Yorkshire stations this year.

For details see website: northernbelle.co.uk

Telephone: 01270 899681

Cost of the Wakefield to Warwick Castle excursion was £390 per person including a £30 supplement pp for a guaranteed table for two. The ticket price included coach transfers and admission to the castle. Prices as at July 2019.