AFTER much planning, Elaine and I decided to spend a family Christmas and New Year here in our former home town.

Leaving a bright blue sky on the Costa del Sol with temperatures touching 30°C in mid December was not easy, but Christmas never seems quite the same in a sunny climate, even with the tree all trimmed up, log fire burning and parties arranged.

Elaine’s two lads travelled in to meet us – Simon with family from Edinburgh and Jason, who was en-route for 30 hours, from Melbourne with his family.

We all stayed in a conclave of delightfully converted farm cottages beneath Castle Hill and although cosy and warm inside, we really felt the cold as we arrived amid a howling gale with horizontal rain.

One morning brother Harry took me past some childhood haunts on a quick dash across town and sadly a number of closed down pubs.

We were heading for Crow Lane Junior School where I had been invited to their carol concert and later to discuss the possibility of a 60th anniversary reunion of Huddersfield Gym Club later this year.

The headteacher, Wendy Wallace, staff and pupils made me most welcome as I sat and enjoyed some rousing songs and carols by the entire school.

Later we had coffee and mince pies. I do wish Harry could have stayed to soak up the atmosphere and nostalgia that the tiny school hall reflected.

It was here that over a memorable 25-year period that I was first an 11-year-old pupil, soon to be a gymnast – along with hundreds of others who joined the Youth Club – and later as full time Youth Leader there at the popular CYC.

On one of the pre-Christmas ascents of Castle Hill I was thrilled to find the castle open to the public and on climbing the final steps I was surprised to see Father Christmas seated beneath a Christmas tree, keeping warm in front of a gas fire, ready to greet any youngsters with small gifts of sweets etc.

I have many memories of this fine old monument and standing there on its windswept rooftop terrace I could see Pole Moor, Holme Moss and Emley Moor mast in one skyline sweep.

Alas, there was no pub beneath me.

About 45 years ago a climbing mate, Melvyn Kaye and me were invited as members of Vibram Mountaineering Club to assist an eminent archaeologist to excavate the nearby well.

We abseiled down 85ft to find only animal bones and rubble – probably from ancient hunters of times gone by.

The first trip up the hill I recall was with mum and dad in the 1950s along with sister Dixie and a very young Harry.

We only just made the bumpy climb in our old Morris 8 up the then dirt track.

Mum and dad enjoyed a flagon of ale or two as we sat outside the old pub with a glass of lemonade and a bag of Smith’s crisps – complete with the familiar blue twisted bag of salt. (How come I can remember this event and often can’t recall where my glasses are?)

On the walks around the neat pathways we found the recently sited historic information boards interesting and there were no visual signs of erosion due to visitor footfall.

We were made very aware of the pub build and subsequent demolition, with some locals saying they wanted a pub back on the hill.

Our group felt that if it was possible they would prefer to see the old Castle Hill pub back – either as it was or in similar local stone with its mullion windows in keeping with the castle.

OK, if some form of tasteful extension could accommodate a limited hotel space then albeit, but something with character and charm.

Elaine and I have known Mick and Barry Thandi for many years and found them decent guys when we provided them with sports goods for the teams and groups they generously sponsored.

I would say as a former landlord, that if they have the resources and commitment to build a pub in this present climate, good luck lads, but stick to the plans.