End Piece
I think the joy of living here – the strength of Gledhow and of Roundhay – lies in the stability of the area. Its ‘socio-demographic segmentation’ emphasises ‘city prosperity’ and ‘domestic success’ – both categories are above the norm for the city – whilst ‘transient renters’ and ‘municipal challenge’ are below the norm. And this, in practice, translates into people developing a fond attachment to the area, putting roots down and staying. We know our neighbours by name; we know Jules in the Lidgett Larder, the ‘young lass’ in the chemist (now well into her 50s), the receptionists in the GPs, the Bhogal family who run the newsagents, Val in the delicatessen. We have a daily milk delivery from Ian‑the‑milk; chat regularly with Dave and Catriona in their art gallery, with Tilly, Chloe, Anna, Christine and the team in the Garden Room (a.k.a. our friendly cafe in the park); and I still see familiar faces from the school run, over 30 years ago.
My Gledhow (I)
When we bought this house in 1976 (a 1950s semi in a pair of cul-de-sacs) we envisaged it as a starter-home, and expected to move within a few years. The plan was postponed when Ian became ill and, as the years passed, the decision to stay put (and the financial benefits of a falling mortgage) became a great facilitator; it enabled me to do a PhD; our Matthew to attend the Children’s Centre (formative for me as a young parent as much as it was for him); Ian to go freelance – an amazingly creative opportunity, leading to him writing and editing over 100 books. Financially we could cope with Matt’s impromptu gap-year (even if the emotional impact was more difficult), his degree and his PGCE; with Ian’s love of buying books; and with my habit of printing photographs, framing them and putting them on the walls. These memories make this house a home, make it more special.
My Gledhow (II)
If you ask me to choose two of the images from this section which best represent ‘my Gledhow’, it’s the ones on this page – with the trees and the birds – and the casual way that both seem to wrap around our lives, a feature that’s increasingly important now my mobility is reduced. Even when I’m housebound by icy paths or by high winds there’s something to see out of the windows – something other than bricks, concrete or any of the sights that offended G.B. Shaw; there’s something to ponder, to pique my curiosity.
So now that I've introduced my home – my Gledhow – I want to dig deeper, explore its overlying topography and its underlying geology and fault lines; investigate its history, its buildings and the materials of their construction; learn about its residents and visitors – the ‘great’, the ‘good’, and the ‘not-so-good’ – and the people who influenced its development (Jabez Woolley, for example, whose name is stamped in the frogging of local bricks); discover the artists, past and present, who have represented the area visually; pore over maps to examine the changes over time – from open land (dotted only by a handful of ‘mansions’) to a busy residential suburb; look into the etymology of local names; understand how the non-conformist church reached and became established in Leeds and in Roundhay, as well as other religions and cultures; and also to study the wider context of all these ideas, to uncover (I hope) my sense of space, place and belonging.
Well, that will keep me busy until the warm weather arrives and I’m encouraged to take the camera out for a ‘walk’ – and, in all probability, for several more winters to come!!