Round our way: a glimpse of Hayfield’

by Fionna Inward Allen

Sitting on a train at Liverpool Lime Street Station, I know that in just over an hour I will be back in my parents terraced house in Hayfield. As the train swaggers under concrete bridges and past industrial estates, I look forward to the emerging view of curvaceous hills and dry stonewall from the window of the local bus.

At eighteen, I keenly ‘escaped’ the tranquillity of Hayfield in order to begin a new and exhilarating life in Liverpool, however, after my first year of city life I genuinely missed walking along the street and exchanging “hello” with familiar faces, and people sincerely waiting for an answer to their question, are you?”

Living away has allowed me to appreciate Hayfield’s charm. Much of this realisation is due to the reaction of outsiders. A university friend stayed with us for a weekend, and compared its picturesque and kinship virtues with the children’s animation ‘Postman Pat’. Apart from its obvious beauty, however, Hayfield has unique character. Built around the village church, the centre comprises of a butchers, grocery stores, a bookshop, café, post office, pet shop, chemist, food hall, antique shops and a generous offering of pubs.

It is a place that retains the magic of the untouched. Not everywhere will you see tractors and horses ambling up the high street as you order your cod and chips at the local chippy (Friday night is traditionally fish and chip night).

One of my personal pleasures is browsing through the toppling shelves of the local bookshop, where on sunny days the owner sits outside on a chair and will fervently discuss the merits of Iain Banks novels until the sun has disappeared. Or you can sit in the café and observe passers-by through the large gleaming windows as you drink from colourful teapots. Scrutinising rambler’s choice of headgear and gaiters is always an amusing activity.

In summer, the cricket pavilion and pitch, which lie at the heart of the village, becomes an arena of social activity. It’s amazing how a pint of Carlsberg and a Magnum can liven up a game of cricket.

It’s difficult not to talk about Hayfield romantically and nostalgically. It is where I’ve grown up and where I consistently return. At twenty-one, I have already arranged with my eighteen year old sister to buy one of the three-storey houses overlooking the river. In the future we plan to bring our families to Hayfield and relive our bike rides up the Sett Valley trail looking for frog spawn, and games of hide and seek in Bluebell wood, this time with our own children. Then at night we will sit on our balcony and take in the view of the church clock-face and mallards sleeping in the river below, while we drink bottles of red wine purchased from the local shop.

It amazes me still how Hayfield remains for the moment reasonably undiscovered.
Working in a local pub, I am aware of a few stray walkers from Salford and Manchester who drink Tetley’s and tell me how they continue to visit Hayfield. As a young person, it is exciting to know that within 30 minutes I can be in the centre of Manchester, able to catch a train to almost anywhere, or in 20 minutes at Manchester airport, and on a plane to any international destination. Exciting too, it must be, for avid walkers who in the same amount of time can be far into the hills and away from civilisation.

Some friends of mine from Wrexham came to Hayfield recently. Our pottering round Hayfield led us from the café, where we discreetly recovered from our indulgent night out in Manchester, to the estate agents! It is clear that Hayfield has a particularly contagious kind of charm.

For now, Hayfield remains a haven of peace. It’s not riveting and it certainly isn’t hedonistic fun, but it remains pleasantly content without ‘advancements’ such as Channel 5 and complete mobile network coverage. With everything moving at such a fast pace these days, it’s comforting to know there is still a place where ‘change’ is usually something used to purchase your next half of bitter.