We currently have the topic 'Hebden Bridge.'
The stories we tell ourselves shape what we think and how much we enjoy life. I choose to repeat those stories about Hebden Bridge that make it the place that I want to live in. This story is one of my favourites.
It's an easy and maybe cliched conversation starter to ask how someone came to Hebden Bridge, but I recommend it, you will often find it amusing. I was told most people are here due to some lost weekend, a short visit that expanded indefinitely. A neighbour got on the wrong train, really wanting some other West Yorkshire 'Bridge' but once here never left. Someone else was doing the Pennine Way when a fierce argument caused her boyfriend to abandon her in the valley, she's still here some 30 odd years later.
The story I like though isn't a lost weekend and is a little sad. A couple chose to leave London in search of a home they could afford and a more grown up lifestyle. Things went wrong, the big decision made her think again, she decided to stay in London with his friend. Not just that, this happened at the last minute, the house was bought moving was under way.
He moved, on his own, emotionally distraught to a town 200 miles from everyone he knew. His first night he took a book to the Fox and Goose and quietly cried into his beer. The Fox is a small pub and he was engaged in conversation. Asked why he was so fucking miserable he told his story to one of the drinkers in the pub. He then took his book and dragged himself home.
The following morning he was roused by a loud knock. At the door was the same man from the night before.
'You're coming with me.'
Bundled into a hippy van he was taken house to house plied with tea and introduced to his new community.
And that is my favourite arrival story, it sums up what I choose to believe about the hospitality of my town.
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