A mini history in the Yorkshire Dales

Middleham, which holds the title of the smallest town in Yorkshire, is perched on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales National Park and it’s where my husband and I are lucky enough to be calling home for a while. Alongside its accolade of smallest town, Middleham is also home to thousands of race horses, and each morning I hear the canter of hooves on the road outside and each morning I find myself peeking out of the window to marvel at the beautiful creatures. There are 15 training yards located in and around the town, with the training of horses in the area dating back over 200 years. The horses bring people from far and wide, we listen to stories from the locals in the village pub of their horses and their syndicates and each year on Good Friday is the Middleham Open Day where you can tour the stables, getting a look behind the scenes.

A short walk from the back door of our cottage are the sprawling hills of the Yorkshire Dales where the distinctive dry stone walls wrap around luscious green fields creating a unique map of the land dating back hundreds of years. Most days we find ourselves venturing past the crumbling remains of Middleham castle, hopping and skipping over the puddles as we go, Jasper eager to roam free. The castle was once the childhood home of Richard III, it later becoming one of his royal homes after he was crowned in 1483. After Richard was defeated during the Battle of Bosworth, its ownership was transferred to Henry VII and it unfortunately fell into ruin during the Tudor dynasty. It was eventually sold from royal hands and then continued to be passed around various families until 1984 when it was taken on by English Heritage and declared a Grade I listed site.

It seems it isn’t just long-lost royalty that spent their youth in the area. My mum, hit by a wave of nostalgia when she visited a few weeks ago, realised that the cottage two doors down from where we’re staying is where we stayed when I was a child. It’s currently empty, its walls covered in scaffolding, plants growing out of crevices. But in the corner of the window is a sign, with the faded words of ‘Sykes Cottages’ just visible. I didn’t recall this memory when we chose Middleham as our home but my mums story invoked in me an image of a photo that I remember my aunty had framed many years ago. I was younger than 10, my brother would have been younger than 6, and we were sitting side by side on the stairs of the Sykes Cottage. I remember it because the cottage had two staircases and as a child from a one staircase home, that was such a wild concept to me. I still don’t remember much more about the holiday and we unfortunately couldn’t find the photo.

That same weekend my mum and I drove to Leyburn, a market town five minutes down the road from Middleham. On the way, my mum wondered if the old toy shop in the square would still be there. I asked why and she proceeded to tell me a story of another holiday where my brother and I would be given pocket money, probably a couple of pounds, each morning to buy something from the toy shop on the square. If we then wanted something which was more than we could afford, we would have to save our money and buy it at the end of the week. An early lesson in money management! And, reader, the shop was still standing.

With it only being a couple of hours away from our hometown of Doncaster, both mine and my husband's family would visit regularly, and vague memories of holidays scatter both of our minds. This God’s Own Country sure is a beautiful part of the world being here feels almost like coming home, with everything feeling familiar and safe. Whilst we continue to fill our ears and heart with childhood moments, I'm looking forward to making more memories of our own.

P.S those photos were took on a particularly nice February day. I can confirm that the town is now currently covered in a blanket of snow! ❄️❄️