I had wanted to visit Todmorden for ages. I’d read about the
Platform One Art Gallery on the station, an interesting location surrounded by
the Lancashire hills, a railway viaduct marching across the old stone-built
town centre and an increasingly youthful and arty reputation, not unlike that further
downstream at Hebden Bridge. After walking the river bank alongside the Calder
in the morning, starting off across frozen ground in temperatures of around minus
three from the impressive Elizabethan house at Gawthorpe Hall, and noting
dipper, heron, goosander and goldeneye along the way, we headed for Todmorden in
the car down Upper Calderdale.
Plan A. Heading straight for the station, the art gallery
door was locked. The notice outside said it should have been open but it
wasn’t. The windows were misted up and possibly frozen up, too. The guy in the
booking office said he “hadn’t seen anyone around” but made it clear it was
nothing to do with Northern Rail, anyway. The station was busy enough and Class
195 DMUs set off in both directions, east towards Leeds and west for Chester,
while we stood around getting cold.
Plan B. We sought sanctuary in the nearest coffee bar, which
turned out to be just fine – warm and welcoming. We outlined the rest of our
day, deciding on a quick walk round the town centre and then off to Hebden
Bridge in time for lunch at the renowned railway station café. By that time,
I’d checked online to see if there was an explanation as to why the station art
gallery had been closed. There wasn’t, but it prompted us to check out our next
move, too. Just as well we did. Hebden station café would not open until Monday,
though it, too, had been expected to serve hot food on Saturdays until 2.00.
Plan C. Instead, we would take a walk around Todmorden and
stay for lunch. A bit of advance planning had shown there were a number of
eateries to choose from, which was confirmed on a quick visit to the tourist
information centre. We decided to head back to the café next to the one we’d
been to before which occupies the old CWS premises, as indicated by an
attractive blue enamel sign above the entrance. It was busy, but we found a
table for four upstairs. Then we were informed that as there was already a
forty-minute wait for hot food that was going to be it for the day. Presumably
that was so that the kitchen staff would not have to work past their normal
signing off time.
Plan D. We trundled back to the coffee shop next door.
Snacks were in the form of pre-prepared, filled rolls in a glass cabinet, so
once they were gone, they were gone. They were gone. We enquired about possible
alternative venues. We were informed that the obvious place that came to mind
had had a fire the night before so it was not open today. We were running short
of options.
Plan E. An out-of-town pub at the top of a nearby hill was
mentioned and we thought we’d walk back to the cars and see if there were any
intervening opportunities along the main road back to the car park before
heading along there. The first café we passed appeared to only have seating outside
under a plastic tent affair, which might have been OK if it had been 15 degrees
warmer. A little further on, there was one more possibility. We enquired about
whether they were still serving hot food. “Not really” was the reply. Well, it
was after 2.30 at this point, with the light already beginning to fade, the
temperature dropping again and the park that led back to the car parking area a
treacherous, uneven icy surface. At this point, we lost the will to eat, gave
up and headed for home. We stopped at Morrisons for a meal deal, enjoyed at the
wheel in the car park, but not before we’d been diverted via Rochdale to join
the M62. The main road to Halifax had been closed, for reasons unknown, adding up
to another hour to our journey time. Our visit to Todmorden had just fizzled
out in consistently unspectacular fashion.
Where did we go wrong? Avoid winter. It can be very cold and
that can be consequential. Check ahead at every stage - by phone rather than
depending on the most recent online post, which might not be all that recent.
All our fault, then? Todmorden’s reputation as a laid-back, good-life sort of
place might mean its also a bit of an anything goes, half-hearted, not-too-fussed
sort of place, too. I’ve been struck by the lukewarm attitude to catering and
services that is often noticeable when travelling in Britain. As a nation, we
obviously lack drive and a bit of umph, when compared to meeting similar
expectations, in the States for example. Our version of the all-day breakfast can
mean as long as you’re there before two in the afternoon, if you’re lucky. It’s
no wonder to me that we languish around at the foot of the economic productivity
charts. We are so easy-going as a people (which I also believe has its
advantages, but that’s another story). But when you feel you are on the
receiving end of some unenthusiastic, can’t be arsed responses one after the
other during the same afternoon, it’s a tad disappointing, to say the least. In
fact, I can’t even be bothered to write about it anymore.
