Haworth, more than most places, is a bewildering jumble of narrow lanes, alleys and ginnels, some wide enough for vehicles but many only accessible on foot. It has grown up over many centuries, from the early days when villagers subsisted on a few acres of poor farmland and maybe some hand loom weaving or wool combing. By the time the Brontës lived here in the 1820-50s, the Industrial Revolution was in full swing; mills, powered by water and later steam, were taking over. Haworth was crowded, polluted and unhygienic. The average age of death was 24 and 41% of children failed to reach their sixth birthday! Nowadays, the crowded cottages are attractively converted, some of them are holiday homes, and the narrow streets are honeypots for tourists.
The narrow streets are honeypots for tourists! Well said.
ReplyDeleteLove that first shot with a glimpse of the hills in the distance.
ReplyDeleteI'm particularly drawn to that first shot.
ReplyDeleteYour first photo is so good I can feel the bitterly cold East wind slicing through my coat......brrrrrr!
ReplyDeleteLove the pics, Jenny! The olden days were not good for everyone that's for sure.
ReplyDeleteI like how they've kept the original houses etc.
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