"All bold men and women hail from the North and all Haworth romantics are dreamers. We see things in a soft moorland haze of a spring morning over the tops or in the embers of a red-fire's glow in the heart of a cold, winter's night.
Many men allow their dreams to fade away into the foggy distance or let them die through the mere passage of time, while the stalwarts of Haworth Heath (a secret spot that nestles in the border of the Bronte moors and one which I shall never reveal the whereabouts of), nourish and protect their dreams. They nurse them tenderly through the bad days until they bring them to fruition in the summer time ahead.
Haworth Heath stalwarts know that the furrow is ploughed straighter when it is ploughed with conviction and purpose or as we say in Yorkshire, 'when we put our backs into it.' We also appreciate that one lives better when one lives with a dream and that those who never dream lived nowt but a mundane existence, filled with raw tatties, cold, dark nights, dank cellars filled with ghosts of the past and affection gone stale." William Forde: May 2nd, 2013.