1st August marks Yorkshire Day, a day that is widely thought of as an opportunity for those around me to mock my accent (“off t’ t’pub furra pahnt” & other such words I never actually say!) but one that is close to my heart.
I never had Yorkshire pride til I moved to t’other side o’ t’Pennines to Manchester & realised the true meaning of “you don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone”. As it turns out, I bloody love my hometown of Goole now that I don’t live there!
Nestled in East Yorkshire, equidistant from city life, blissful countryside & the gorgeous Yorkshire coast is the friendly dump of a town called Goole, a community a bit like Cheers where everybody knows your name & always has your back but probably judges you based on the Chinese whispers they heard about you forever ago from a friend of a friend who was once on the same bus ride as you.
It was the town I grew up in, holding memories of the most precious, the most horrific & the most significant moments that have all helped mould the woman I am today & I never realised how true this was til I relocated.
Since moving away, all the daft things that used to simply remind me of times gone by have become the fondest memories of the first quarter-century of my life:
West Park where Crater & me took the dog every day has become the romantic spot where he proposed to me on a Christmas morning dog walk.
Doubtfires ice cream van outside the market has become the best tasting ice cream ever & is stuff of legend to all my non-believing Manchester friends who I insist haven’t lived til they’ve tried it.
Pepi’s pizza that we used to order every time my dad (who I haven’t spoken to for over 20 years for very good reason) was drunk has become the food of family bonding that my now London-based brother & me share when we get together to visit our Nanna & Grandad.
People I lost touch with forever ago & wouldn’t even pass time of day with anymore have become the reoccurring topic of conversation – referred to by full name at all times along with a detailed memory of why we liked/disliked them so much – every time my grew-up-in-Goole-but-moved-to-Hull bestie have a “reet good” catch up.
Goole seems to be the town that never forgets & can never be forgotten. Crater learnt this when, every time he left the house with me when I still lived there, would have to ask “who was that?”, thinking the person I’d just had a half hour chat with in the supermarket was a close friend when it was actually a dinnerlady from primary school, the parent of a school friend I hadn’t been friends with for years, one of the strangers I saw once a week at Fat Club.
Y’can Tek T’Lass Outta Goole But Y’can’t Tek Goole Outta T’Lass
I’m proud to be a white rose of Yorkshire & I love Yorkshire Day rolling around once a year to give me the perfect excuse to reminisce over pointless things that no longer affect me but once were my everything.
Of course, I love my life in Manchester! It makes my heart happy to think of all the memories I’ll make here in the second quarter-century of my life, but there’ll always be a part of Goole in me. It might be a shit hole, but it’s my shit hole.
Happy Yorkshire Day.
Dani | Mrs Crater x
NB: All photography is by Jade Clayton.