Brontë, Literature

Haworth 1940’s Weekend 2018

I consider this something of a companion piece to a previous post entitled Photographing Haworth. A combination of my trip to the 2018 Haworth 1940’s weekend, the urge to take lots of photographs every time I visit, and the kind feedback I had from readers of the last post resulted in this piece which is basically just a lot of photographs from the weekend. We all enjoyed the sunshine and the atmosphere, so I hope you enjoy this post of Haworth looking beautiful, as always.

Gateway from Weaver’s Hill car park to Haworth’s graveyard


This is a lovely (if slightly wonky) shot of the church at 9am, just after the church bells welcomed us to Haworth, and before the madness of the day ahead.

The home of the Brontës peeking through the graves and trees
Tablet on the wall of the schoolhouse

I often wonder what Charlotte would think of this tribute to her as she hated teaching with a passion. Her Roe Head Diary, written during her time teaching at Roe Head School makes her attitude to her pupils clear and is a fascinating read despite its fragmentary nature.

Early morning at the Brontë Parsonage Museum

The weekend is full of vintage vehicles. Here are a couple of them in the early morning sunshine.

Empty streets in the morning
The White Lion basking in the sunshine

I find it’s always better to get there before the festivities kick off as it not only gives you a chance of parking the car, but it also gives you the time to wander around taking photographs of Haworth before the crowds make it impossible, and enjoying watching everybody set up for the day ahead.

Looking towards The Black Bull
A curious little building
The Fleece Inn decked out in Union Jacks
The empty and quiet park

I’m not sure how long the building on the bottom left has been boarded up for, or even what it was. I only discovered it a couple of years ago on a trip down to the station and sadly it’s still the same this year.

View from the train station


You can hop on one of these vintage buses every year. It’s a free ride which takes you from the station back up to the parsonage for those with tired legs, or those who can’t face the prospect of walking back up Main Street through the crowds.


This year saw the arrival of these beautiful owls. I’m always a bit concerned when live animals are used as part of festivities and events, especially where large crowds can be found, but I have to say that these guys were either so incredibly chilled out or excited to find themselves the centre of attention. Their handlers also clearly knew and loved these beautiful birds. Unfortunately, the name of the charity/institution they were all from has completely slipped my mind so apologies for that.


My drunken teddy friend was back this year. You can see him a picture in my previous post. I’m glad to see he wasn’t driving this year.

Back up to the Parsonage


The parsonage looks beautiful all year round, but looks extra special when the sun is shining on it and the door is open to invite visitors in.

Comparing my most recent visit to the Brontë Parsonage (above left) with my very first back in 2012 (above right).

The interior of St. Michael and All Angels’ Church

Brontë patriarch Patrick was the local reverend, preaching in the church for over forty years before his death in 1861. Fittingly, he and his family (including his sister-in-law Elizabeth Branwell) were buried in a vault underneath the floor of the old church. When the current church was erected, the vault was left untouched and a plaque on the wall marks the spot. The youngest Brontë, Anne, is of course buried in Scarborough where she died.

Inside the church there is also a memorial to Elizabeth Branwell, the sister of Brontë matriarch, Maria Branwell, who came to Haworth to look after her sister’s children during her final illness. Elizabeth has traditionally been viewed as severe and a little eccentric, however, her nieces and nephew loved her dearly, as is evident from their surviving correspondence and there can be no doubt that she had a big influence over the siblings, and that her help was invaluable to Patrick after the death of his wife. She never returned to her native Cornwall and died in Haworth in 1842.

Brontë memorial inside the church

Main Street was starting to get busier as we made our way back down to the park for the second time.


The Black Bull is famous for being a famous haunt of Branwell Brontë, however, it’s also a favourite spot of Bob, my bichon frise, who was unable to make the trip due to the heat and the fact he spent the weekend recovering from his holidays in North Yorkshire.

A sunny stroll down Main Street
Some more fun to be had
The park at 1pm
The park, swarming with guests and so very different from just a few hours ago

I was a little concerned when I heard that there was a new organising committee for the event this year, however, the weekend was just as good as ever. Reader, I hope you’ve enjoyed looking through these pictures, and that they inspire you to take a trip to Haworth some day soon, and of course, to the 2019 1940’s weekend.

Bob has seen his fair share of 1940’s weekends now and in his old age he’s quite happy to chill out at home with some Brontë inspired literature during the hot weather.



Please do not copy, share , or use the images from this post without seeking permission first.


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