The letter The Keighley News didn't publish.....yet

Time to clamp down on Haworth's demise?

I congratulate Ted Evans on having the most successful business in Haworth (The Changegate Car Park). Anyone who can make £75, less wages and expenses of course, by slapping a wheel clamp on a car, within the boundaries of the law, is to be admired, but may I invite him to take a look at the wider implications of what his business is doing to the village, and what he could do to change it?
He is the only local businessman I know of who has been the subject of a TV documentary, and numerous news items.On special days he trots out his old Rolls-Royce and proudly poses with it, and his published books, on the Changegate car park, safe in the knowledge that by the end of the day he will be several hundreds, if not thousands of pounds, richer thanks to his staff's efforts at clamping the poor beggars who came to see us in the first place!
Well done Ted, I'm not being sarcastic, I wish I'd thought of it first!
However, other business people and traders in the village do not have the same income, not for want of trying, and I wonder if, having achieved a surely substantial bank balance from your entrepreneurial acumen, you might like to consider giving something back?
Your notoriety means that some traders post notices in their shops warning unsuspecting visitors about your car park. I perhaps don't blame them, but on the other hand am not uncritical about the way a minority of traders have manipulated the state of the village into what it is today. Devoid of visitors for most of the time and busy only when the same traders choose to put on events to suit themselves and milk the financial rewards.
Mr Evans operates seven days a week, and even on a bad day won't worry too much about where his next drop of profit is coming from. Messages from people who have fallen foul of his legitimate operation are legion, I have had several, and I must say that a drop of compassion might not go amiss sometimes.
I believe he has recently applied to become a member of The Haworth Village Association, which I am not, but his application was not exactly received with enthusiasm. The same association is not without its own critics, justifiably.
Apart from at weekends and on special occasions, usually organised by The Village Asssociation, Haworth is becoming almost as much a cultural and commercial graveyard as the one fronting The Parsonage. This weekend we had the Victorian Christmas markets, organised by the association of course, which have brought much needed trade into the village. I suggest that a regular weekend market would be a tremendous boost to the village, and is much needed. The bottom of Main Street would be an ideal spot for it, and perhaps overseen by a drop of new blood on the commercial and community front. Never mind the obvious bleats which would come from higher up the street, this village needs a shot in the arm, if not somewhere else. There are locals here as well as tourists and I am sure they would welcome the opportunity to be a part of it.
Ted, you're as famous as The Brontes and might even be making as much money! You've earned a handsome income and become almost as famous, or infamous, as them, why not consider putting something back and becoming part of a real effort to revive the village which has given you a good living? A founder member of Haworth Chamber of Trade perhaps? You're not on the bench now so perhaps you have a little spare time.
If you or someone doesn't, you might find yourself clamping the Bradford Council van that comes to turn the lights out when everyone has left.

A common soldier

He was getting old and paunchy
And his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion,
Telling stories of the past.

Of a war that he once fought in
And the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies;
They were heroes, every one.

And 'tho sometimes to his neighbors
His tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened quietly
For they knew whereof he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer,
For old Bob has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer
For a soldier died today.

He won't be mourned by many,
Just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary,very quiet sort of life.
He held a job and raised a family,going quietly on his way;
And the world won't note his passing, 'tho a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth,
Their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing,
And proclaim that they were great.

Papers tell of their life stories
From the time that they were young
But the passing of a soldier
Goes unnoticed, and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution
To the welfare of our land,
Someone who breaks his promise
And cons his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow
Who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country
And offers up his life?

The politician's stipend and the style in which he lives,
Are often disproportionate, to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps a pension, small.

It is not the politicians with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our country now enjoys.
Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some cop-out, with his ever waffling stand?

Or would you want a soldier—
His home, his country, his kin,
Just a common soldier,
Who would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier,
And his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us
We may need his like again.

For when countries are in conflict, we find the soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.
If we cannot do him honour while he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline in the paper that might say:
"OUR COUNTRY IS IN MOURNING, A SOLDIER DIED TODAY."

Victorian markets

A great weekend of trade thanks only to the fact that we had open Victorian markets in Haworth. The thing now is to have more of the same, and under the control of someone totally independent of all local traders.
It makes no sense not to maximise the popularity of such markets in our village and recognise that it could be the saviour of local trade, not, as some think, the end of it.

The deserted village

Even now the devastation is begun,

And half the business of destruction done;

Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,

I see the rural virtues leave the land.

From Oliver Goldsmith's poem "The Deserted Village". How apt!

When are they open?

A question I am sick of answering about various shops in the village. The short answer is usually when they feel like it and not necessarily when customers would like them to be.
Can I just remind readers that there is life at the bottom of Main Street and some of the best quality goods in the village.
I'm having maps printed!

Time to be counted

OK, I've kept quiet for long enough.

Nearly three months of trading on Haworth Main Street and I'm disgusted at the traders' attitude.
They open when they feel like it, expect everyone to flock to join The Village Association, think they own the place, but are offering no reason for tourists to come back again and the locals might as well not exist.

Couple this with our notorious clampers' car park (most lucrative business in the village by the way), zero encouragement from local or central government and I wonder why I am bothering, but I am.

I suspect that from next week the traders will all come alive, expect to earn a fortune in a short time and then go comatose again until March. That is no way to run a business or a village.

Haworth deserves better. Who, apart from me, is going to give it? Come on, shape your bloody selves.

Meeting jobsworths

Just been to a meeting about the Haworth Parish Plan.Nonsense.

Paid Bradford Council officials running a kindergarten style session where we had to break up into small groups and write on large sheets with large pens and answer their nonsensical questions.

I dared to raise two realistic issues which affect the village and was not well received by those running it. As Tony Blair said, "Am I bovvered?"

No more meetings for me thank you. I prefer real to surreal.