Reflections on a Working Class Upbringing in Rural Yorkshire

The scent of grasses on a damp morning

Bilberry stains on my fingertips

The sound of bees subtly hovering and collecting nectar from the hardy heather

Birds swooping down to feed their young sheltered amongst the peat bogs

Their song, the backing track to my life

The gentle hustle and bustle of country folk

Families going about their daily lives

Vans...window cleaners, builders, joiners, gardeners

Men at work in the valleys

Cling, clang, the sound of their tools

Children playing until the school bell rings

Mothers pushing prams and gossiping

The smell of roast beef escaping through steam covered windows

Soap suds collecting on kitchen counters

The signs of a working family home

You see even in the open, wild moors, people find routine, structure and convention

The harsh realities of existence here and the devoid of shelter means that storms hit hard

There is no hiding from the rain, the wind, the snow, the hail

We feel it all

We find comfort in routine

…and each other