The road to home

France & Vincent

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May 17th, 2013…

It was the moors that did it. Driving over the top of those hills and seeing the White Rose of Yorkshire on the sign by the roadside. It gets me every time. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

It is the colours, perhaps. The familiarity of the names and places, the accent…the terrain… just a quality in the light on water… the smell of rain-drenched bracken and heather, even the smell of wet sandstone. The great boulders and limestone cliffs, the dry stone walls snaking across the hillsides… I don’t know. All I know is that there is something about it that is home.

Unexpectedly, I found myself there earlier in the week, spending an evening with a dear friend and staying over. And waking to a Yorkshire morning. The first for a long time.

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I had driven within a…

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