Not one but TWO fantastic writers will be here at Ponden Hall on the evening of Saturday August 31 from 7-9pm to talk about their new books over a glass of bubbly. Sunday Times bestselling novelist Rowan Coleman’s new novel ‘The Girl at the Window’ is a ghostly love story told across time, set right here at Ponden Hall, and woven in with its real-life history. Sharon Wright’s new book ‘When Maria Met Patrick: The Mother of the Brontës’ is the first ever biography of the Brontës’ mother Maria Branwell, and has uncovered startling new information about the family’s connections with smuggling. Both Sharon and Rowan will be here to talk about their books, answer your questions, and sell some copies over a glass of Prosecco. Tickets are FREE, but you MUST reserve a place – first come, first reserved – since places are limited and demand will be high. To book email Julie at email@example.com or ring 01535 648608
There are just a couple of tickets left for a ghostly Brontë evening this Hallowe’en, Saturday October 31, at 7pm, here at Ponden Hall.
Actress Caroline Lamb will read ghostly extracts from the Brontës’ work, we’ll enjoy a pie, pea and parkin supper around the fire – then you can share YOUR ghostly experiences, as we chat on into the spookiest night of the year, in this most atmospheric of houses…
To book one of the last remaining tickets, ring 01535 648608, or email us at firstname.lastname@example.org
Photo: Courtesy Anneleen Lindsay www.anneleenphotography.com
We live here at Ponden Hall, and we’ve been here for 16 years. Although we fell in love with the house the moment we set foot over the threshold to stand in the long, L-shaped hallway sloping down into the house a little like a hobbit’s burrow, we’ve grown shamingly used to the place over the years.
We see the astonishing landscape of Ponden Reservoir, hills beyond, mist floating above, herons swooping, oystercatchers perching, every time we do the washing up. The ‘wily, windy moor’ is just minutes away up the hill past our neighbours’ very down-to-earth working farm. The window that inspired Emily Bronte to write of Cathy’s ghost frantically smashing and scratching to get in to her lost love Heathcliff is just one of several in a room that until recently was simply the place we went to sleep in every night and got up in every morning.
A few months ago, though, we opened the house as a B&B, and Carolyn Mendelsohn’s photographic residential was our first big workshop venture. Obviously Carolyn’s expertise was the top draw for workshopees, but ‘Come and photograph Wuthering Heights’, was next on the list. There’s no doubting the wealth of Brontë links in this historic house, but you still do wonder – does anyone really want to take pictures in my front room enough to pay for the privilege?
They did, it turned out. And they properly, deeply fell for the place. Like leafing through old wedding pics, it reminded both me and my husband Steve of why we ourselves had first fallen for this gracious, stone-flagged corner of West Yorkshire with all its attendant stories and legends.
Watching these experienced photographers honing their skills in our front garden; perched on the 18th century chest in our upstairs bedroom; ranged around the log fire or the long table in the hall – was a lesson in seeing differently, and not taking any of this beauty for granted. Our confidence grew each day, as we realised these people loved the Hall and could see aspects of it that were hidden even from us. Just as in all good photography, they had the skill to take that vision and share it, so that for a moment we saw it through their eyes.
There’s a magic about the place that draws interesting people here and infects them with the desire to return. There are the Brontë connections, certainly, but there are the legends of the family who built the house, the Heatons, some of which seem to have leached into Wuthering Heights. There are the numerous celebrities who’ve visited over the years and fallen under its spell. There are the strange coincidences, tales, juxtapositions, fascinating facts. There’s a great story about the Heatons hiding the Hall from Oliver Cromwell. Hell, trouser-splitting singing phenomenon P J Proby even lived next door for a while!
But the temptation to take it all for granted was blown away by the three days we’ve just experienced. Thank you, all of you, for your skill in helping us see again. And thank you especially, Carolyn, for the vision to see that this would work.
We got back from a week’s holiday in the early hours yesterday, to discover that in our absence the moors had exploded in colour! I don’t know whether it’s last year’s mild winter, or the gorgeous sun we had earlier this summer, or the rainiest August for ages, but we think the heather this year is more beautiful than we’ve ever known it.
These pictures were taken yesterday, between Oxenhope and Stanbury. Have a look and see what you think…