Ugthorpe Lodge

We were having a midnight adventure one late October evening on the Yorkshire moors enroute to Whitby when it all went horribly wrong.We had planned a weekend getaway to pretty little Whitby a scenic two hour's drive from Sunderland. Anne and I had been all packed and ready to roll for hours. My Dad had been delayed at work so we were setting off at sunset rather than late afternoon.
Never mind we were off!This is England mind and a beautiful day can change it's mind quick as a wink. Which it did. We had just got up to the Dales and were heading south to Yorkshire when the rain started.It was relentless. My Dad was peering through the windshield at what I don't know as there was nothing there. Maybe he was worried about sheep but any sheep with half a brain(which is what sheep have) would have legged it for the croft.
We were battling our way through the storm when the car conked out. English cars don't like rain. Makes you wonder doesn't it?There we were high on the moors, dark as the inside of your hat, in a conked car.
However there was a light in the distance so someone probably Dad( I don't remember) went out in the deluge to look for help. Help came back with a Land Rover and in we squashed and there we were at Ugthorpe Lodge. I'm not making this up! Emily Bronte had been for a visit a while back and had sat down and dashed off Wuthering Heights aka Ugthorpe.
It was dark , stony and perishing cold. We were poked in a sitting room whose only light came from a tree trunk smouldering away in a fireplace that could have roasted an ox.We ate ham sandwiches and played twenty questions that poor Anne kept losing.When we were finally tired enough to give up trying to get warm we were led up to bed with candles!!! They said the power was out. Hmmm....The bedrooms were as cold as you can imagine but we were young so after a lot of shivering we went to sleep.
Next morning after a breakfast of everything you could wish for fried,( they will fry pizza for you in Yorkshire. True!) we went outside to see our car that had been towed and was being examined by someone whose English was a bit tough to understand. A Yorkshireman.
It was a beautiful calm, cool, morning with little puffy clouds that looked like the little puffy sheep that were milling about.We stood there for ages.We were scared to go back in to see where we had been in daylight. It looked bad enough from the outside.
The little green Anglia was given the kiss of life and coughed a couple of times and in we piled.I don't think my Dad took his foot off the gas the whole way into Whitby which we reached in record time.
I have a drawing I made of us standing around the car that morning but even if I knew where that old sketch book is I don't know how to put it in the blog. Sorry you will just have to see it all with words.