I’m not alone in my recent nostalgia for the “old days”; after the arrival of his daughter, H has been thinking quite a bit about those few years at the turn of the century in Huddersfield and how our life journeys have taken us in directions we perhaps didn’t foresee when we were in our early twenties.
H and I became friends through Rick in my second year at Huddersfield. They had met at Blackburn Sixth Form college when they were 16, although H tells me at that time they weren’t as close friends as they would later become, after both choosing to study at Huddersfield University & living at the Uni’s Storthes Hall accommodation (this was considered the place to be at the turn of this century, although much grander blocks of student flats have been erected in very close proximity to the main Uni campus in the last few years), where Matt had also lived during his first year. I missed out on making friends in this manner as I moved in with Matt in his second & my first year of Uni. During my second year, after meeting Rick and being assimilated into his circle of friends, I began to spend more time with H and it was quite often the case that we’d meet up, usually after nightfall, either to have a few hours conversation at a town centre bar (although H doesn’t drink, so sodas all round) or we’d chew the fat walking loosely plotted routes around the localities of Huddersfield. During my third year and living at Calton Street, when we might all four of us venture out for a stroll, H once passed comment that it was reminiscent of the walk to Las Vegas from Boulder, Colorado undertaken by characters Stu Redman, Larry Underwood, Glen Bateman and Ralph Brentner from Stephen King’s book (and the subsequent mini-series which stars one of H’s favourite actors, Gary Sinise as Stu) ‘The Stand’, albeit without the post-apocalyptic setting (actually, on second thoughts…). The four of us are quite quick-witted, and of course this seemingly throw-away comment was mercilessly seized upon and is routinely peddled out by Rick whenever opportunity presents itself to ridicule him. When he suggested after reading my post about the WRHW, which I shared on Facebook (and of course marvelling that his Syphon Filter sticker is still in what was his bedroom window at our old gaff), that he’d like to do a walking tour of Huddersfield, I was of course game. With Gav living back in Letchworth and Rick throwing himself into his new career training, H and I decided we’d meet up just the two of us in our old stomping grounds to re-tread some old routes around the town, past our former homes and several locations of personal significance. Here’s what we got up to that day, Friday 9th August 2019.
Mirabeau isn’t really designed for long-distance cruising being a city car, and I don’t really like to take her on long runs or leave her in unfamiliar car parks or streets where she might sustain damage (this is my OCD showing through again). As such, I caught the train to Huddersfield after dropping Joseph at nursery, taking that same service as I did on the WRHW which brings me to Huddersfield just before half past 10 (and again, booking in advance I saved more than £20 on the cost of buying the ticket on the day), with H picking me up at the station before parking outside the house he lived in when we first met in 2000 in Birkby, and not too far from our former digs on Calton Street. When he lived in Birkby, H shared the house with three other students, one of whom was named Alex, but was nicknamed Barry after the ‘Love Walrus’ Barry White owing to his very deep voice. I met Barry only a couple of times, and he was a genuinely nice guy. I was sorry to hear that a few years after our graduation in 2005, Barry was killed in a traffic collision whilst riding his motorbike one morning on his way to work. We take a few minutes to talk about & remember him whilst standing outside that house on Newland Avenue; H regails me with a few stories of their time together, including how Barry once walked from Manchester to Huddersfield overnight, sleeping in woodland before turning into work (in a Bank!) and would often sleep in the woods when he was in Huddersfield, leaving his bag and belongings stashed there whilst he went into town drinking with friends (he’d leave his motorbike at the house of a friend in the town). He was just 27 when he died and H notes that Barry likely did more in those few years than many will in a lifetime and I’ve no reason not to believe him. Rest in peace, Barry.
Nearby is the Fartown Complex, a large sports field for playing Football (read Soccer my American friends), Rugby & Cricket. There’s also a 400m running track around the circumference of the field and a basketball court. Now, as you’ll well know dear reader, exercise other than hiking is really not my cup of tea, but this place does have a special personal significance. You see, it was on the cricket crease of that field, I sat with Rick and another of our Law reading friends, Chris, at 2am on the morning of our final exam of the LL.B course, the dreaded Equity & Trusts. Very few people enjoyed that part of the course (Sarah tells me she did, but then she’s a weirdo) and everyone was very anxious about the exam. I recall one of my friends from the course, another Sarah, was in tears at the thought of sitting it whilst we were waiting outside the exam room to be let in. I still have nightmares to this day where I’m at University and I haven’t completed coursework or have exams to sit which I feel unprepared for, even though I graduated 17 years ago at this point! H brought along a flask or two of hot Ribena and we take the opportunity to have a liberal swig; despite the forecast calling for rain, it’s actually turned out to be a warm, sunny day. I’d packed my emergency poncho in my backpack and again, I’m wearing my usual hiking clothing of choice but resist the temptation to convert my Karrimor trousers to shorts. My Big Red Hiking Hood remained at home.
We take a detour to an area which H and Rick used to call “The Point” (which is up a very steep and narrow hill), before trudging down to Calton Street, past the Slubbers Arms where we’d visited a few times during our tenure and where Rick would often take his Dad Jack on the occasions he’d visit. We arrive outside the gaff and note H’s legendary aforementioned Syphon Filter sticker is indeed still in situ whilst reminiscing about our time there in 2001 / 2002. As I mentioned in the WRHW post, there were a few arguments between all of us during that 9 month stint, but you forget those more & more as the time passes and remember only the good. There were virtually constant evenings of watching films with takeaways from Spicy Cottage (at least one of us ordered from there most nights and as likely some of their best customers, they sent us a Christmas Card in 2001! We visited the site of our favourite takeaway on our way back from The Point – unfortunately we won’t be in town long enough to wait for it to open to sample our old usual order), listening to H’s terrible soundtrack blaring through his PC speakers and hammering away on my PlayStation (the first one, not even a PS2!) at Street Fighter Alpha 3 or Fox Sports NHL 2000. I still have both of those games, and an old PS3 which will still run them, even though it’s extremely rare that I would pick up a controller nowadays. I’m not much of a gamer – indeed I now only have one made for PS3 game, which is still a Sega Mega Drive Classics multi game disc, featuring all the titles I’d play in my early to mid teens!
We venture past the Market Hall and in to the town centre where we stop for a Subway lunch before visiting the University Campus. There’s a huge amount of ongoing development; I suspect the campus will at least have doubled in size by the time the current works are finished when compared to our time there.
Walking what would be my route home during years 1 & 2, and virtually the reverse of that which formed part of the WRHW, we reach the top of Springdale Avenue and I tell H the story of how I came to be there (largely recounted in my 3 part Origin posts in January); we have to be careful not to linger too long at each location as I’d really rather we weren’t accosted by any residents (shirtless or otherwise) as I was on the Fairholme Way. We’ve always enjoyed walking, and H would more often than not meet me at Springdale Avenue to start a hike. Neither he nor any of my University friends really took to Matt; in fact, when we all (coincidentally) met up at the (now closed) local nightclub Visage, Gav introduced Matt to his friends as “some c*nt Andy knows.” Matt was not impressed to say the least.
We return to Newlands Avenue and hop in to H’s car before a jaunt to Castle Hill in Almondbury, which overlooks Huddersfield. The breathtaking view is hastily spoiled by our first short rainshower of the day and we retreat to the car before returning to the train station, a good 5 hours after my arrival earlier in the day. Following our farewells, I enter the station as an elderly gentleman, inebriated and having trouble controlling his bladder, is forced therefrom by a member of staff. After forking out £6.10 for the not more than 20 mile ride to Leeds, I hop on a bus to my folks house and wait for Sarah and Joseph to arrive. I have to pretend that Joseph has beaten me there by putting on my sneakers & backpack and ducking out of the rear door on their arrival to come back to the front of the house to ensure that he is “the winner”; we have to let him downstairs first each morning for this same reason, too.
It was a lovely day reminiscing on foot with one of my closest friends and the weekend made even better by booking next year’s trip to Orlando with Sarah, Joseph and my parents the following day. I will of course post about that trip in detail in future together with lots of photos!
Big Red Hiking Hood 