THE CLITHEROE KID

On day eight of my caravan holiday, I drove briskly into Clitheroe, Lancashire. It was another regimented site. A code for this, a code for that, park here, not there, don’t drive on the grass, straighten up the van another six inches, keep to the paths, don’t let the dog near the toilet block, don’t cycle on the tarmac, blah-di-blah. They put me on a grass site on gradient of about 1 in 4. When I left, it needed three other stout-thewed campers to lift the caravan nose up enough for me to get the a-frame over the car’s towing bracket so the van could be towed at all. Thanks, Clitheroe. At least, the awning went up properly in about 40 minutes. We visited Settle. I liked it immediately. A hardware shop named ‘Practically Everything,’ owned by a Mr Tom Algie decided to have an ‘honesty box’ day where he opened up the shop, but no staff were required to turn up. He went away for the day. People helped themselves to what they needed and paid their money into the Honesty Box. He took £187 and every item was accounted for. As I wrote on a postcard to my parents: “Mind, I saw no-one there under about 70.” The station was as I remembered it, preserved in aspic, smart as paint and dripping with character. The old water-tank was still there, and a minuscule but pretty signal-box. The signals were all of the mechanical variety, no traffic-lights here, and the original lamps were still in place, albeit with electric rather than gas lighting. There was only one major flaw – no trains. Network Rail was upgrading the permanent way and buses were running instead. Clitheroe is famous for its castle, that towers high over the town, and I decided to climb up to it. A soft sun, low in the western sky, blinded me momentarily. I climbed up and up, holding onto the handrail with one hand and my stick with the other. I kept on climbing until I was on the ramparts. A wind whipped up and I felt less steady. I gripped the handrail tightly and looked out. I had incredible views of the town and the surrounding countryside on all sides. I felt nervous because of the height, but exhilarated, too. The breeze blew fresh in my face and I felt a real sense of liberation from the rich canvas unfolding before me. It was with some reluctance that I started back down. As we walked back to the car, I was struck by how many of the attractive little shops were up for sale or for rental. Nowhere, it seems, is exempt from the vicissitudes of those crazy bankers.