Hello Bradford

I'd intended to make my getaway on Saturday after lunch, but an underestimate of the packing project combined with the siren call of Doctor Who persuaded me late afternoon that it might be best to hold off till the next morning. So just before midday Sunday, I finally eased the hire transit van with my life in the back, out of the gates of The Laurels, Bridge of Weir, and headed south to the North. Annie Mac on Radio One kept me amused most of the way down the M74/M6, especially 'Sunday Squabbles', one of those bizarre confessional features where people call in under the odd impression that broadcasting their problems to the nation and awaiting solutions phoned in by the public beats sitting down for a private chat, any day.

Stopping at Annandale Water services, Johnstonebridge for a spot of light refreshment, a quiet stroll round the pond was broken by the alarming sound of my name being barked from behind: 'Bruce! Bruce, stop it! Don't you dare...' I was relieved to discover on turning round that it wasn't some scary individual from my past who couldn't believe I'd had the audacity to leave without saying goodbye, or repaying some long forgotten loan - but the owner of a black lab that was finding the idea of a dip all too tempting.

Soon after turning off the M6 onto the A65 cross country, I began to feel like I was in Yorkshire. And nearing my destination, I was conscious of entering a distinctly northern town; the hills laced with Coronation Street style terraces, the factory chimneys, the local stone, the peaked caps... (ok, not that last one). Once in Bradford, the AA directions broke down and I had to stop and ask a couple of times to reach my destination of Garth Fold in the village of Idle. It's a name I'm going to have to fight against, but all the same, a lovely wee spot, if you'll excuse the Scottish twang (heavens, I'm actually moving closer to my roots coming here - Guisborough on the north edge of Yorkshire - so there's really no excuse)... quiet stone courtyard type layout, rural aspect, trees, nice view, small Anglican church nearby with a bell tolling on the hour (so far hasn't disturbed my sleep too much)... and across the road from the famous 'Idle Working Men's Club' - you couldn't make this up - circa 1928, and just up the road from a pub whose name I'll need to go and check, dating from 1840.

Sunday night I had my first carry-out curry from the Idle Balti - a smooth creamy chicken 'makhani', beautiful. I think I could get used to this place.