ILKLEY, once known only to southerners as that northern town in a corny
campfire song, is suddenly hip and fast gaining a reputation among the
chattering classes as the Padstow of the North.
As if to prove the point, a clutch of literati will descend on the Yorkshire
spa town during the first weekend in October for its annual literature
festival. This year it is bigger than ever with 109 events over 17 days and
a fanfare of famous names, including P. D. James, Fay Weldon and Louis
Theroux.
Why such luminaries should pack up their egos and head for Yorkshire in autumn
at first defeated me. Aren’t they usually in Tuscany? Being born in West
Yorkshire, the less pretty bit, I have to declare an interest. When the
first Ilkley festival was held 32 years ago, I was an ambitious 20-year-old
desperate for the sophistication of the Big Smoke.
Ilkley featured in my childhood as a day out for a banana sandwich and
dandelion and burdock picnic at the Cow and Calf Rocks, a famed beauty spot.
In my adolescence I clutched half a mild in its smoky pubs, holding hands
with spotty boys, listening to folk singers clad in foul, hairy sweaters. It
was about as smart as fish and chips in a tabloid and I longed for brighter
lights.
Going back this summer after 30 years was a revelation. Instead of nerds in
anoraks, the streets were heavy with designer-clad Europeans and “yummy
mummys” as manicured as anyone in Manhattan. Since my childhood Ilkley has
dumped northern grit in favour of sleek urban. Its epicurean offerings and
steep house prices are reminiscent of Padstow, which took Cornwall out of
the caravan belt and made it cool.
It was the sunniest weekend of the year, which could have clouded my judgment,
but I’d move there tomorrow if I could afford the house prices. A glance in
an estate agent’s window revealed a six-bedroom house with less than an acre
of garden for more than a million, a small nondescript bungalow at £375,000,
and a two-bed flat for £250,000.
Sneaking up private roads two miles above the town — we could always say we
were lost — we found Victorian stone mansions with rolling views of
Wharfedale, surely one of the most beautiful panoramas in Britain. Once the
homes of wealthy wool merchants, the properties have been lovingly restored
by Leeds and Bradford professionals with an enviable lifestyle.
Driving higher, I paid a nostalgic visit to the Cow and Calf, heaving with
rock-climbing school parties. The nearby hotel, where I’d nagged for pop and
crisps, was serving mid-morning cappuccinos on a sunny terrace. Looking down
on the handsome town with an adult eye, I could see no changes, apart from a
distant wind farm.
With York, Leeds, Bradford and Harrogate all within 30 miles, Ilkley is near
to Yorkshire’s best in culture and shopping, yet only a boot’s throw from
the glorious Dales. Its lido, one of the few lagoon-sized open-air pools
left in the country, is thriving, as is its tennis club with immaculate
grass courts.
The town still boasts the famed Bettys tearooms, but beyond that my parents
wouldn’t recognise the Crescent Hotel, now a tapas bar, where they took me
for Sunday lunch in the 1960s. The marketplace, with Bentleys and Astons in
the car park, is surrounded by expensive shops, including one called Shoe
Bee Doo selling designer children’s shoes.
Eating out can be anything from a gourmet picnic from Lishman’s “Award Winning
Butcher and Charcutier” to lunch at the Yard, more wine bar than pub, with
jugs of Pimm’s, champagne, and a seafood barbecue serving lobster, giant
prawns and wild salmon. For the best dinner in town it has to be the
Michelin-starred Box Tree, where we dined on roast scallops with truffle
oil, sublime chateaubriand and chocolate mousse with berries.
Even better news is that the pubs have changed. The Fleece at Addingham, a
village three miles out of town, where I went to the dismal folk club, is
now as gastro as anything in Britain, yet still retains its beams, open
fires and flagstone floors. Trencherman-sized lunch-time snacks include
antipasto plates and brie and Bayonne ham sandwiches, but also shepherd’s
pie with mint sauce and beef sarnies with dripping and pickled onions.
For me Ilkley had undeniably changed for the better, but I’ve one major
grouse. It infuriates me that the local tourist board promotes the area as
“Baht’At Country”. It makes us natives sound like flat-cap-wearing ferret
handlers — and it’s not even a good song.
Need to know
Jill Hartley stayed in Ilkley at Rombalds Hotel (01943 603201,
www.rombalds.co.uk); from £90 a night B&B for two, £75 single
occupancy. She ate at the Box Tree (01943 608484, www.theboxtree.co.uk) and
the Fleece, Addingham (01943 830491).
Ilkley information: 01943 602319,
www.visitbahtatcountry.co.uk.
Ilkley Literature Festival, Sept 30–Oct 16, programme and bookings: 01943
816714, www.ilkleyliteraturefestival.org.uk.
