Haworth is a tourist destination known for its association with the Brontë sisters and the preserved heritage Keighley and Worth Valley Railway. Haworth is first mentioned as a settlement in 1209. The name may refer to a "hedged enclosure" or "hawthorn enclosure". The name was recorded as "Howorth" on a 1771 map.
In 1850, local parish priest Patrick Brontë invited Benjamin Herschel Babbage to investigate the village's high early mortality rate, which had led to all but one of his six children, including the writers Emily and Anne Brontë, dying by the age of 31. Babbage's inspection uncovered deeply unsanitary conditions, including there being no sewers, excrement flowing down Haworth's streets, waste from slaughterhouses and pigsties being held for months in fenced-in areas, overcrowded and poorly-ventilated housing, and a poorly-oxygenated and overcrowded graveyard that filtered into the village's water supply. These conditions contributed to an average life expectancy of 25.8 years and 41.6% of the village's residents dying before the age of 6. This report was presented to the General Board of Health and prompted work to improve conditions in the village.
In should come as no surprise to long time readers of this blog that the Bronte connection was our primary reason for visiting Haworth, although the village is blessed with a fair few pubs which certainly helps matters. A friend of mine had also previously recommended Haworth as worthy of a visit so in some ways its reputation very much preceded it. The journey to Haworth would take us around an hour and a half, on a mix of roads. This began with A roads leaving York, before a brief sojourn on the M606, which took us into the suburbs of Bradford. No offence to any Bradfordians who might be reading this but it was hardly the most picturesque of drives. We even experienced some rain, the first for a few days, something that always seems to happen when we're driving out of York. Before long though, the rain eased off and dissipated and the urban sprawl of Bradford opened out into the countryside and winding Yorkshire roads that we were now becoming strangely accustomed to. Having negotiated the, now obligatory, tight turns, dry stone walls and open expanses of fields, we entered the village and navigated our way to the top of the famous cobbled street that is the main artery through the settlement. Our final B&B was situated just here, right at the top of the steep road. We pulled up outside the Apothecary Guest House, our base for our stay, I knocked on the door and we were greeted by the owner, who guided us to one of the adjacent parking spaces. After some manoeuvring, we were parked safely and, if I do say so myself, rather expertly. To quote Ace Ventura: like a glove! We checked into the B&B and unpacked. Our room was at the back of the building with views over beautiful Yorkshire hills. We couldn't have picked a better spot to stay. Our location, at the top of the high street, meant that we were virtually opposite several locations linked to the Brontes, all of which were on our list for visiting. First though, we wanted to explore a little bit more of what this lovely village had in store.
Our exploration would start next door. What was formerly the old apothecary (a chemist, or pharmacy in modern parlance) is now a very cool, folklore and mythology themed shop selling all manner of things. As well as various scented candles and bath salts, there are also books. These range from copies of the classics, including, as expected, a few of the Bronte novels, alongside Dickens, Jane Austen and Bram Stoker, but there are also books on mythology, folklore and various forms of divination, including from birds and flowers. It really is a very interesting emporium and not the sort of place we expected to find in this quiet village. We returned to the shop later on and made some purchases. Amy picked up a book and a candle. For my part, I bought a folklore book that actually accompanies some books I already own by the same authors. It would soon turn out that this isn't the only shop of this type in Haworth but more on that later. We continued our exploration by following the steep high street down to the bottom. In our eyes, it made a lot more sense to work our way uphill, particularly as we were staying uphill. Having reached the bottom of the street, passing numerous other quirky independent shops, and a large number of B&Bs along the way, we took a detour into the local park. This was a nice, quiet spot, where we could take in our surroundings and have a bit of a breather. Several flowers were in bloom, which provided a significant splash of colour, under the azure vault of the sky above. We spent a few minutes here, wandering about and sitting on a bench, whilst we recuperated. Before too long, it was on to our next destination. The exploration of Haworth's pubs was about to begin in earnest.
A short distance from both the park and the bottom of Haworth's main street, is Sun Street and on Sun Street can be found a magnificent building. This is Haworth Old Hall, now a pub.
The present building is believed to be one of the oldest, if not the oldest, in the village and is believed to date from at least 1621, although there is evidence of a dwelling on the site going back to the Tudor period. What began as a more simple timber-framed structure was rebuilt in brick, giving it its imposing current form. The current building was originally an extension to an Elizabethan manor house that no longer stands. The hall is built with traditional Yorkshire stone and has retained several other original features, including a large, studded, oak door, stone floors, archways, mullioned windows and two huge fireplaces. It also boasts vaulted cellars which were rumoured to contain tunnels leading away from the hall, one leading to the church, in the event that a quick escape was needed in times of religious upheaval. Amongst it's previous lives, the building was a private house belonging to the Emmett family, who purchased it in the 18th century, and divided it up into lodgings for their various tenants. It has also served as a courthouse and was also used as a filming location for the first ever cinema adaptation of Wuthering Heights, as far back as the 1920s. Nowadays, the hall is owned and operated by Marstons as a pub and restaurant with significant charm. We had arrived a couple of minutes before opening but before too long, we pushed open the magnificent entrance door and made our way inside. The interior is very much in keeping with the building's age and previous use. A large, wood-panelled bar runs along the wall as soon as you enter. Opposite this, an archway leads through into a drinking and dining area, divided roughly into two. The decor very much suits the place. There are taxidermy animal heads on walls, old weapons on display, old beams still visible on the ceiling, a shelf displaying tankards, decorative plates, and portraits of former residents. There is much bare brick and subtle lighting. The seating is traditional wood. One area of the dining space is carpeted with the other half given over to bare wood. The toilets are located in this area, with the gents in one corner of the room and the ladies adjacent to the bar. Even though there are modern accoutrements, such as radiators and electric lighting, these do stand out against the grandiosity of the interior. As stated, there is a bar here and, being Marstons operated, there is real ale too. On said bar, there are 5 handpulls. Three of these were in use when the first customers of the day (us) walked in, with offerings from the Marstons stable, namely Wainwright Gold, Hobgoblin IPA and Pedigree. I began with a pint of Hobgoblin IPA whilst Amy started proceedings on a J20. The total cost of the round was £8.55. We made our way into the room opposite the bar and took a seat. It was quiet whilst we were there but the Old Hall is clearly popular. Several tables were reserved for dining for later in the afternoon. First thing in the day, this is a very atmospheric place. Marstons have done an excellent job with the conversion, adapting the place for hospitality use without lessening the character of the building. There is also outside seating here, both in a small garden to the rear and a much larger lawned area to the front. A building of this age must be quite imposing to be in late at night, especially when locking up. There are a number of spooky tales linked to this place. In general, Haworth has arguably more than its fair share of ghost stories. likely due to the village's higher than average 19th century mortality rate. The tales here are varied. The most famous story concerns two workmen who, whilst renovating the cellar in 1992, had the wits scared out of them by the apparition of a man who was just staring at them, the end result being that they fled in absolute terror. A man in a long coat and hat has been seen in the building many times. Is this the same figure? Perhaps. Staff often report the intense feeling of being watched whilst carrying out their normal tasks. This was a sensation that Amy felt when she went to the toilet, and she didn't know about the claimed phenomena at the time. Other customers have reported strange activity too, with one visiting gentleman allegedly staying up all night talking to a young girl that only he could see. Scary stuff. Less scary here was the beer. The Hobgoblin IPA was in fine condition. Nothing mind-blowing but decent enough to blow the cobwebs away.
Having enjoyed our time at the Old Hall, it was time to continue our explorations. We retraced our steps, making our way back up the main street, with a dry stone wall to our right and the hills and dales rolling away below. A short distance further up the road, on our left as we approached it, is the only pub in Haworth to feature in the Good Beer Guide 2025. On now, to The Fleece Inn.
Situated halfway up the cobbled street, The Fleece Inn is a former coaching inn, with parts dating back to the 16th century. By 1823, it served as a prominent stop-off on the coaching route between London and Edinburgh. The Bronte sisters are believed to have visited the inn frequently and it is mentioned in their writings. Nowadays, the pub is a very popular location for locals and tourists and is operated by Timothy Taylor as one of its tied houses. The entrance leads through into an open plan bar area, with a small room to the right and a lower-level eating area down some steps to the left. The bar is roughly central to the main room with seating around it and opposite. This takes the form of low tables and chairs but there are also banquettes adjacent to the bar, under a large mirror. The decoration is modern and contemporary but fits with the pub's traditional aesthetic. The toilets are located upstairs. Unsurprisingly, Timothy Taylor beers occupy significant bar space, but that's no bad thing. There are 8 handpulls here, offering the core range and an occasional seasonal. On this occasion, the options were Landlord, Golden Best, Boltmaker (all of which were doubled up), Knowle Spring and Ram Tam. I went for the Knowle Spring, springing for a half, whilst Amy went for a half of Vocation's Heart & Soul from amongst the pub's keg range. All told, this cost us £5.45. We made our way to the banquette next to the bar, which included a plaque dedicated to the memory of a departed regular and perused the interior. There were a few other customers in, most of whom seemed to be eating. We were just there for the beer though and it's a good job that we were. It's very nice indeed. I've had Knowle Spring on a handful of occasions and here it was at it's absolute best. You'd expect nothing less from a Timothy Taylor beer served in one of its own pubs but, nonetheless, it was excellent! The Fleece is another very comfortable place in which to imbibe after a wander up the high street. It apparently has an excellent reputation for food. One woman at the bar certainly thought so as she was booking a table for the evening, asking stupid questions the whole time. Ah, the joys of hospitality. It's not all comfort and joy in this place though. The Fleece has a darker side. Low level poltergeist activity has been reported in the bar area itself but the more terrifying stuff happens upstairs. The ladies toilet is home to a particularly malevolent presence. A black mass has been reported in one of the cubicles, which is known to move towards witnesses. This is alleged to be the post-mortem manifestation of a very unpleasant man who tortured his wife. Her unfortunate shade patrols the corridor outside of the toilet. The Fleece also has guest rooms and they haven't escaped sinister goings on. A Victorian gentleman in a top hat has been seen standing in the corner of one of the bedrooms. One woman woke up to such a sight and, believing it to be her husband, asked him to come back to bed, only to discover her husband sound asleep beside her. A trope? Yes. But, where do such tropes come from if not from actual experience. We wisely decided that we wouldn't be venturing to the toilets on this occasion though. The Fleece is a cracking little pub. It thoroughly deserves its place in the Good Beer Guide. The beer is in excellent condition. This is exactly what Yorkshire pubs should be like.
Leaving the Fleece, we continued on our stroll back uphill, popping into a couple of other shops on the way. These were selling souvenirs, handmade gifts and the like, although one shop was selling witchcraft ingredients, for both good and bad magic, and some genuine haunted dolls. A strange find in a place like this. Not today, Satan. Before long, we had reached the summit. We would take a brief break from pubs now. It was time to dive deep into Haworth's literary heritage with a visit to some local landmarks that are inextricably linked to the Bronte family and their enduring legacy. We were already really enjoying Haworth. The pace of the village was much different to the busier, and much larger, towns and cities we'd covered during our road trip. With its location amongst verdant rolling greenery, and its cobbled streets, Haworth is a very picturesque place indeed. And, just when we thought it couldn't get any more quintessentially Yorkshire, we were greeted by the site of a couple of chickens wandering about amongst the nearby buildings. Conveniently for us, the next two locations on our Bronte themed excursion are adjacent to each other. We began at the church of St. Michaels and All Angels, the local place of worship that was not only frequented by the family in life but is where all but one of them are buried, in an area at the back of the church. Anne Bronte died in Scarborough and so is buried there, overlooking the sea, but her sisters, brother, father, mother and aunt are all buried within the church confines. Their resting places are marked by engraved stones and plaques. For reference, there is a memorial in Westminster Abbey also dedicated to the sisters but none of them are buried there. Following our time at the church, we exited and walked around to the rear where there is a small, but very overcrowded churchyard. Local evidence suggests that up to 40,000 people are buried here, crammed in on top of each other, which doesn't look possible but is certainly not without precedent. The overcrowded graveyard is believed to have contributed to the unsanitary conditions that led to Haworth's infamously high death rate. Despite the small size of the graveyard, it's an eerie place. There was previously a gate, now replaced with a stone wall, that led from the graveyard into the church grounds, which would have been part of the Bronte family's route to church. From the graveyard, it was onto the adjacent parsonage. Patrick Bronte, patriarch of the family, was the parson of Haworth and so lived in the parsonage, where the children were brought up and lived for most of their lives. The parsonage is now a museum, with each room decorated as it would have been at the time that the family lived there, including mostly original artefacts that belonged to them. We paid the entrance fee and went into the museum. Whilst it doesn't take very long to go round, it is an enlightening, sobering, and in some ways, a deeply personal experience. Seeing how and where the Bronte family lived their lives, where the sisters wrote their masterpieces and where their wayward brother Branwell painted, and battled alcoholism and opiate addiction, puts greater context into their existence and makes the reality of their untimely deaths even more poignant. More than that, seeing the rooms in which they went about their everyday activities, and where three of the siblings (Emily, Charlotte and Branwell) died, adds a human dimension to figures that have taken on an almost mythical edge. As a literature buff, I can say that the Parsonage Museum was one of my highlights of the whole trip as, just for a moment, it brought me into the presence and mindset of women who battled against sexism and misogyny, famously publishing novels under male names, and who are responsible for works that are rightly widely considered as classics.
With our exploration of the Brontes, and their connection to the village, complete for now, it was lunch time. Luckily, another pub would provide us sustenance in both solid and liquid form. A short distance from the parsonage is the King's Arms.
This pub dates from the 17th century and was formerly a manor house. It also acted as a courthouse, with the rooms upstairs, now private, used for this purpose until around 1870. A former innkeeper here was Enoch Thomas, a close friend of Branwell Bronte. A later landlord, Joseph Fox, was a confectioner by trade and provided the food for Emily Bronte's funeral wake. The Loyal Order of Ancient Shepherds was formed here in 1876, with one of its members, John Hartley, eventually becoming the longest serving landlord, managing 47 years before his death in 1907. Inside, the bar is L-shaped and there is seating organised around the perimeter of the room. There is some exposed stone work which, in conjunction with wood panelling and laminate flooring, provides a cosy and welcoming effect. There are two levels. The first is the larger, main bar space and there is a separate, quieter area to the rear. There is also an outside seating area. We walked in and were given a warm welcome by the landlady and also drew the attention of a dog that quite clearly wanted to say hello but wasn't allowed to. Pleasingly, there are 6 handpulls on the bar here, all featuring beers from Bridgehouse Brewery in Keighley. Some of these are named after members of the Bronte family, rebadged from their core range, with bespoke pump clips to match, although there are other beers from their range too. Our options were Emily, Anne, Charlotte, Branwell, Bitter and White Bear. I went for a half of Emily, which is as confusing to read and write as it was to say at the time. Combined with a Diet Coke for Amy, this came to a very respectable £4.00. We took a round table just next to the entrance so we could peruse the menu. We weren't ready for anything enormous but the pub offers sandwiches so we ordered a ham and cheese and a cheese and pickle. These soon arrived, with a little salad garnish and a handful of crisps on the side. They were very tasty and just what we needed. The beer here was also great. Emily (Aired Ale) (4.1%) is a malty bitter that has a big biscuity finish and a subtle maltiness. The King's Arms is another great example of a traditional Yorkshire pub, with a solid welcome and the art of simple things done well. It also has a more notorious history. In years gone by, the pub was used by the local undertaker to store bodies, with these being housed in the cellar. This was due to a shortage of space in the mortuary which, until recently, was the site of the local Tourist Information Centre. If that wasn't enough, a slaughterhouse previously occupied what is now the beer garden. This would lead to torrents of congealed blood running down into Main Street and further into the village, further adding to the unsanitary conditions of the time. Both of these previous uses have indelibly stained the building with paranormal activity. Whilst there are accounts of objects moving, disappearing and later reappearing in odd places, this is confined to the private accommodation. The stronger, more frequent activity happens in the cellar. You know, the place where they used to store corpses. Several landlords and landladies have heard unexplained noises taking place in the cellar in the dead of night, only to find nothing amiss when they've plucked up the courage to go down and investigate. This sinister undercurrent could not be further from the feel of the pub in broad daylight though. The King's Arms is great.
For our next move, we would travel to the outer edge of the village, just a few minutes walk away, before looping back in to continue where we left off. Leaving the King's Arms, we turned left onto West Lane. We followed this road on where it soon becomes a proper tarmaced carriageway as opposed to cobbles. A short distance along this thoroughfare, close to the junction with Heathcliff, is the Old Sun.
Located on the western edge of the village, the Old Sun was originally built in 1730 as the Sun, and underwent a later rebuild in 1897 by Treadwell & Martin. The name 'Sun' is a relatively popular name for pubs due to its association with good weather good fortune but also references the coat of arms of the Distillers' Company. In modern times, the Old Sun has undergone a recent refurbishment and is now independently owned. This well appointed brick building benefits from an easily accessible location on one of the main roads into the village. The front beer garden, seen above, also features a fountain which, whilst unusual for a pub garden, certainly adds some additional character. Inside, the layout is primarily open-plan, light and airy. The pub is to one side of the room and there is modern, minimalist decor throughout. The tables are carved wood giving them an uneven, quirky style. There is one main room, with a smaller, quieter room off to one side. The floors throughout have retained their flagstones. The walls are cream painted and decorated with a combination of photos and old maps. The Old Sun was definitely the busiest pub of the day so far but not so busy that we couldn't find a table. First though, the bar was calling. There is a bank of 4 here, and 3 of the available pumps were in use, offering a choice between Timothy Taylor Landlord (doubled up) and Saltaire Blonde. It was the latter for me and the same for Amy, with two halves totalling £4.70. We made our way into the smaller room, where there were no other customers, and set about making ourselves comfortable. For all its older outward appearance, the interior of the Old Sun has certainly been made to look and feel welcoming and modern. We weren't the only ones that thought so. A table of older ladies were chatting and knitting nearby. We'd passed some locals enjoy a lunchtime beer in the sun on the way in. Throughout, an air of relaxed joviality permeated the place. The beer here is certainly worth visiting for. Saltaire Blonde (4%) is a light and refreshing beer balancing soft malt flavours with some subtle spice from the use of Saaz hops. It's very drinkable and thirst quenching. Sunshine in a glass, which seems appropriate given our location. The pubs in Haworth were certainly consistent in their welcome and their quality. There hadn't been one venue that we'd not enjoyed our time in so far. It was time to see whether that theme would continue.
We retraced our steps back into the village proper where our next stop had just opened. The newest addition to Haworth's pub scene is the Haworth Steam Brewing Co.
This micropub operates as de facto taphouse for Haworth Steam Brewing, which currently brews near leads. The space it occupies was formerly a grocery shop and a pub, the Cross Inn. The single door leads directly into the bar area. A refurbishment this year has apparently expanded the internal space. The bar now sits to the back left of the room. Seating occupies most of the remaining floor space with banquettes around the edge and a couple of tables, with standard chairs, in the middle of the room. The floor is flagstoned and the ceiling is wooden beams and whitewash. Wooden panelling has provided a nice finishing touch. Brewery posters, adverts, and murals of brewing equipment dominant the wall space. There are locally made spirits and mixers, made by the same owners as the brewery, available for sale. The toilets are located opposite the bar in a small corridor style space. The pub was quite busy when we arrived, despite not having been open for very long that day. The clientele primarily appeared to be locals and their four-legged friends but the buzz of conversation was prominent. This is clearly a very popular place. Happily, real ale is front and centre, with 5 handpulls offering various goodies. From Haworth Steam's own portfolio there was T'Owd Lad and Hells Bells, alongside Wold Top Against the Grain and Little Critters Vanilla Chinchilla. The 5th handpump hosted Weston's Old Rosie cider. We decided on a half each of the Hells Bells (4.1%) and procured a table in the middle of the room. We really really liked this place already. The sense of modernity wrapped in the shell of a much older building really appealed to us. The atmosphere was great. There was a sense of belonging, even though this was our first visit. We felt at home. It also helped that the beer was cracking. Hells Bells is billed as a robust blonde and it certainly ticks the boxes. The hops are to the fore, with a crisp hoppiness that descends into a clean finish. We both really enjoyed it. Such was the joy we felt at being here that we stayed for another, this time a half each of the Vanilla Chinchilla (4.5%). Somehow, this was even better! This is a vanilla ice cream porter and it's bloody delicious. Equal parts sweet and smooth, it's balances the bitterness of chocolate with subtle hints of coffee and custard. It's a treat of a beer, even in what is decidedly not dark beer weather.
As sad as we were to leave Haworth Steam, it was time for some food. We had been recommended a place by our B&B host, and this place also happened to already be on our itinerary. Mere feet away, we approached the Old White Lion.
It is not known how long a public house has stood in this spot. The first recorded name is the Blue Bell Inn, dating back to before 1783 and there is some suggestion that the inn may have been around at the time of the old turnpike road that used to run from Colne to Bradford, known as Blue Bell Turnpike, that passes the front door. By 1783, the current name was in use and the inn was run by Jeremiah Jowett, who rented it for £17 a year. Haworth's first Masonic Lodge met here from 1796 and, in the 1820s, it was bought by William Garnett, who ran it for 20 years. He died in 1859, after a long retirement, and is buried in the nearby churchyard. In 1850, J & R. R,. Thomas acquired the building. They were prominent citizens and wine and spirits merchants, who also owned the Cross Inn over the road. They undertook a substantial rebuilding job in 1858. A succession of tenants followed until 1881, when it passed to Samuel Ogden, owner of one of Haworth's two principal breweries. When the brewery closed, the pub was sold, first to Whitaker & Co. of Halifax and then to Bentley's Yorkshire Brewery. In its current form, the Old White Lion has been family-run for 25 years. The current owners have undertaken significant improvement and restoration works to preserve the character of the place. Over many years, throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, the building has expanded, incorporating neighbouring properties, including houses, a brewhouse, coaching yards and a barn, which contained an old well. The current car park was developed over demolished houses and infilled ash pits. The layout inside is reflective of these periods of expansion and development, as well as the ongoing renovations. Perhaps, as is often the case, the numerous renovations and refurbishments have stirred something up. This is yet another location in Haworth with stories of hauntings linked to it. Room 7 is the location of a particularly tragic, though locally famous, apparition. The parachutist Lily Cove is believed to haunt here. In 1906, at the annual village gala, she was attempting a stunt wherein she would jump from a hot air balloon and open her parachute, gliding safely to the ground. Inevitably, something went wrong. Upon attempting the stunt, her parachute failed to open and she plummeted to the ground at nearby Ponden. She was brought to the White Lion, barely alive, and passed away a few moments later. The room in which she expired is said to house a female apparition, seen staring at guests whilst they are in bed. There are also accounts of the sensation of a heavy mass falling on people just as they drift off to sleep. This latter phenomena could perhaps be attributed to sleep paralysis but it seems unusual that it would happen to so many people in the same location. We entered through the front door, which gives you the option of going right, to the bar, or left to the hotel reception and accommodation. We of course went right, entering the main bar room. A small central bar, serves two areas, with the larger space to the rear, which is primarily used for dining. Old beams dominate the architecture, both on the ceiling and as part of the support structure. The bar is stone, in keeping with the rest of the building, but there is carpet throughout. Sash windows allow light in. There is a distinct olde worlde feel, with whitewashed texture walls, exposed beams, decorative plates and tankards, together with wooden tables and leather-backed chairs. An old fireplace, now with a log burner, sits at the far end of the main room. The bar here features 3 handpulls. Our options here were Tetley's Original Bitter, Rooster's YPA and Goose Eye Bitter. I went for a half of the YPA and Amy went for a Diet Coke. Once we explained that we were planning on eating, we were directed around the bar to the larger area where our order would be taken at the table. Before too long, we'd ordered. I went for the 'tipsy chicken', charred chicken breast with a mushroom, garlic and white wine glaze, served with potatoes and vegetables. Amy went for the chicken and chorizo tagliatelle. The portions were enormous, just as our B&B host had assured us they would be. My food was good and very filling. It wasn't anything outstanding though. It filled a hole. I expected to be blown away by it but I wasn't. Amy's tagliatelle was ok but she had the added disadvantage of finding a large piece of chicken that hadn't quite been cooked enough. The rest of it was properly cooked but Amy did feel a little bit unwell afterwards. The beer was nice enough. I've had YPA before and it's never been sensational. In this case, it was the best of the available options and it was drinkable without being bland. In total, our bill, including food, came to £35.35. We were a tad disappointed with the Old White Lion. It was even more frustrating as we'd gone on there on a recommendation from our host. He wasn't to know and it wasn't his fault. Perhaps we'd just caught them in an off moment. The food was filling at least and very reasonably priced.
Another reason for our frustration was that we hadn't originally intended on this being our final stop of the day. Our original last destination was to have been The Black Bull.
Conveniently located opposite our B&B, the Black Bull is another pub entangled in the history of the Bronte family. The pub itself dates back to the 16th century. The Bronte family are known to have frequented here due to its proximity to the parsonage. Branwell Bronte was particularly fond of visiting and is known to have spent many a day here, drinking himself into a stupor. In more recent times, the pub has featured in a film about the Bronte family, 'To Walk Invisible', and also featured in the Railway Children Return. It should come as no surprise, given its connections to the Bronte family, and Branwell, the recognised 'black sheep' that the pub has many stories associated with it. So many in fact, that it featured on an episode of Most Haunted. Branwell is believed to be the primary ghost here. He has often been seen sitting in a chair that he frequented in life. A bell that he used to ring for service has been known to randomly ring for no reason, often in the middle of the night when the pub is devoid of customers. Branwell has also been seen outside, crossing the cobbles to the site of the former apothecary, from which he used to procure the opium that would ultimately hasten his death at the age of 31. Said apothecary is the shop we visited upon our arrival and lends its name to our B&B, to truly bring things full circle. Branwell is not alone in returning to the Black Bull after death though. Two men, one in fine attire and the other in casual clothes, have been seen arguing at a table before disappearing. A little girl offering sweets has been seen on occasion, as has a maid who may or may not have been murdered. Shadowy figures are often seen behind windows when the pub is known to be closed. In addition, there have been reports of objects mysteriously moving of their own volition and the sound of a woman's anguished screaming emanating from the nearby churchyard. There are some that have linked this last phenomena to Emily Bronte who, some evidence suggests, may have been pregnant when she succumbed to tuberculosis. She died aged 30, just 3 months after Branwell's sudden death. I was very much looking forward to exploring the pub and I'd love to tell you what it was like inside, what beers were on sale and what the atmosphere and feel of the place was like. However, I can't do that. The pub was closed for a short refurbishment, only for a few days, but during the duration of our stay. It was due to reopen the following day, the day we would be travelling home.
Instead, with that disappointment behind us, we returned to the B&B for a chilled evening, and what would eventually turn out to be the best night's sleep we'd had since we'd been away. Haworth being in such a quiet location definitely aided us on that front. The following day we awoke to the sun beaming through the blinds, over the timeless West Yorkshire countryside. It was time to travel home. Following another full English in another hot dining room, although at least one with a view, we packed up our wares, bid our farewells to our host and left Haworth behind us. The roughly two hour drive back to Nottingham gave us plenty of time to analyse Haworth and to put the trip as a whole into perspective. I'd really enjoyed Haworth. On paper, it could easily be dismissed as the home of the Brontes and nothing more. And whilst the shadow of that most famous of literary families does loom large over the village, there's more to discover than we expected. With its cobbled streets, small shops, stone-built pubs and miles of unforgiving moorland around it, it's not difficult to see why it was such an inspiration to Emily, Charlotte and Anne. The location is a character in its own right and, given Haworth's chequered history, its influence on the Gothic stylings of some of their narrative work is easy to pinpoint. This history has carried over into the numerous pubs we visited, all of whom have benefited in some way from the village's place in literary history. However, it's more than that. Haworth is the epitome of Yorkshire. Stoic, unmoving, unbothered by time and change, and determined to cling onto its place on this earth, through thick and thin. What started as an exercise in ticking a location off of my own literary locations bucket list became something deeper without us even realising. It is certainly a place that I'm very glad we got the chance to visit. I cannot stress enough how nice a place it is and its pubs are to die for.
All of this of course, leads into the bigger question: what was our overall opinion of our road trip as a whole? The biggest thing for us was that it was a much needed break. Without going into too much detail, the weeks leading up to our trip had been fairly horrendous in more ways than one. A change of scenery and a change of pace gave us a chance to switch our brains off and to reset. Arguably, Yorkshire is a perfect place to do just that. Visiting new locations is always a treat and on this occasion we visited a fair mix of places, all with their own unique feels. From the seaside stereotypes of Bridlington, with its very nice old town and accompanying pubs, to the Gothic spectacle of Whitby, intertwined in the myths and legends of Dracula. From the now familiar streets of York, which will always have our hearts in ways that a lot of other places can't quite manage, and on to Haworth, forever memorialised as the seat of a writing dynasty, whose subsequent untimely ends wouldn't seem out of place in the pages of their own works. Yorkshire has it all. Its pubs reflect their environments. They are a part of the towns and the people they serve. They are a part of the landscape, and what a landscape that is. You'd have to go some to find a pub in Yorkshire that won't leave some kind of impression on you, for better or worse. We can certainly testify to that. The fact that were able to do this kind of trip successfully leaves us not only with a sense of achievement but the urge to do more of the same in future. This opens up new pathways in exploration. If you do one thing in your life, be that now or in days to come, spend some time in Yorkshire. Have a pint in a Yorkshire pub and truly absorb what it means to be in God's Own Country. It's an experience almost without equal. I hope you have enjoyed reading this blog series as much as I have enjoyed compiling it. I'll be back, before too long, with more standalone adventures.
Pub of the day: Haworth Steam Brewing Co. A modern gem.
Honourable mention: The Fleece. Excellent beer in a cracking pub.
Biggest surprise: The Kings Arms. Comfortable and traditional. A proper Yorkshire pub.
Beer of the day: Little Critters Vanilla Chinchilla. Simply brilliant.
