THE FRESH NORTHERN LIGHT

We’re in Yorkshire. To be exact, the little town of Holmfirth - which might as well be the entirety of the county, given that it seems to encapsulate everything I remember from Last Of The Summer Wine.

Not surprising really. The show was filmed here. And much of my information about this great county comes from Nora Batty, Clegg and Compo - not to mention the patchwork of fields and dry stone walls that stretch unblemished in my mind under bright blue skies of summer.

It is green up here. Somehow, nestled in this northern valley, the grass has stayed verdant and fresh. Blue sky stretches over the cloud-dappled hills, drawn as they are like a vivid reminder of what the countryside is actually supposed to look like.

I’m taking it as a reminder. Sometimes in life, a dry-spell in life can become a drought without you even realising. The park at home still looks like the park, and it will again, but it was quick to turn from luscious grass to sun-scorched straw this summer. I genuinely think that can happen to people too - and I don’t much like the thought that it could easily have happened to me.

Then, like showing someone a genuine banknote, the difference becomes clear. This is how it should look. This is the distance between the way things should be, and the way they are. And now you have to do something about it.

Anyway. We’re not here for long - just a few days of family, of exploring, and photographing each other outside Nora Barry’s steps.

I’ve been to Yorkshire before of course. I always love it; the straight-talking and the humour and the fresh northern light. There’s just something about it.