A story of a little northern Town and the incredible folk in it.Last update: 16.08.16 First posted: 16.08.16 by Mary in Blogs
An alternative assessment of Todmorden
Once upon a time in a land far from the kingdom of ivory towers known as Halifax in a steep dwelling place was a small town called Todmorden.
Todmorden was once a very dark damp place that throbbed to the sound of the spinning engines , a town where men were men and women ruled the roosts.
Todmorden long known for its revolutionaries, its upstarts that drove the King to send in the troops to quell the poor law objectors.
The people of the dark damp place refused to house the poor in workhouses safe in the knowledge that poverty was not of the poor’s own making.
The King had his way after a decade of resistance, the townsfolk never forgot.
The town has much to look back on, it’s atom splitters and justice makers of the Ten Hours Act. Its absorbed-the Nobel prize winners and a mass murderer, the ufo hero and the Baader Meinhoff escapee.
The gritty now clean and quieter town has not forgotten how the land lies, it’s not forgotten it can make history both good and bad.
How the land lies so far from everywhere, the money runs out at Hebden they say.
Some people feel sad how the land is named with its Lancashire postcode and Oldham telephone prefix.
When the rains come we don’t forget how the land lies, the water reminds us, the pretty gritty landscape turns wild and help is a long long way away.
Our isolation has been our wand, the magic we wave over ourselves to survive.
We remember the past and dream of a great future knowing how the rainy land lies.
The kingdom of Halifax doesn’t seem so sweet now the big bucks are gone, the money left might not even get to Hebden now, who knows in the modern world what may happen next.
The Incredible people involved in projects throughout the town know this, that we the people, we the citizens can do anything.
We don’t need to succeed first time or even third, we just need to try.
We don’t need big bucks, big trucks, men with clipboards and power to pronounce yes.
We have what we need, hearts, hands, creative minds, resources in the shape of people both big and small.
We are the warp and the weft of our cloth of dreams .
The incredible kindness of our town is unleashing surprises every day, it’s an unstoppable train and folk just keep getting on.
We lose some and some think it’s not the right station, some fall asleep on the journey while in the noisy carriage they weave bigger dreams.
The engine is fuelled by the distress of the world, the gloom and doom sparks up the train to move forward to journey to things not yet made.
The people of the far away town don’t forget how the land lies, they have the Internet the waterways and the hills to pin plans on.
Water may come and go, governments may change and dollars disappear, we made our own wand to shelter and spell with, we are not the slaves of any kingdom.
Our landscape is precious our streetscape more so, we the people work hard to keep it blooming and nice, we like to munch at fruits and smell flowers, we like our valley clean.
Kindness is king, we mark its name on the hill, Kindness is contagious so we spread it around.
Without it our buildings would be blighted, our shops a lot fewer, the streets would stay dirty and the arts diminish.
Kindness will see the citizens through austerity, floods and engine stalling.
Should our train get delayed on the tracks we will sing to each other, paint and draw while those in the noisy carriage get out and fix the problem.
Yes we know how the land lies, safe in our deep valley far away from the kingdom.
Where activists can practice the art of urbanism, where we the people look after our own.
Where we the people, knit coats for bollards, grow vegetables for strangers to pick and talk about dying being part of life.
We know how the land lies
It’s lovely .
Estelle says “if you doubt Mary’s story came over and see the magic for yourselves”
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