I'd intended to spend the day in Bradford's National Media Museum, but the photo artifacts on display only occupied me for a couple of hours (and flash only occupied a quarter of one case, but I guess I have what you'd call a specialist obsession. Here, anyway, is a very early Sashalight bulb …). The labeling was terrible if one wanted to know anything about the objects on display - really bad. And the tour of the collections didn't run - the curator had gone to a meeting in London (they are only open very briefly, by appointment, during the third week of the month - but in the absence of an online catalog I'd wanted to see whether it was worth returning). Hmmmmm. An extended stay in Bradford may not be in my immediate future.
But I took brief solace in the neo-Venetian Wool Exchange - now a quite wonderful branch of Waterstone's - and then took several buses to explore my maternal heritage, past former cinemas ...
a bus ride to Ossett to look at the ghosts of the shoddy trade, and my grandmother's old house, and then to Hanging Heaton, above Batley - this is the house where my mother was born (not the one for sale - the one next door).
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