Forget Hogwarts. Grangefield had real magic: exploding science demos, freezing classrooms, supernatural piano noises, and a headteacher who thought snow was just a soft excuse for weakness.

Here’s everything they never put in the prospectus – the whispered tales and winked-at truths that every Grangefield kid knew, feared, or contributed to.

1. The ghost of the music block

The old music department? Haunted. Obviously. It was permanently freezing, even in July, and had that one piano that liked to play itself when no one was near it.

They said it was a teacher who died mid-piano lesson, now forever correcting Year 9 harmonies from beyond the veil. Could’ve been the wind. Could’ve been dodgy wiring. Could’ve been Trevor from Year 11 hiding behind the filing cabinet. We’ll never know.

But if you stayed behind after lessons, you’d hear a single note – just one – hanging in the air like a warning. And you’d leave. Quickly.

2. The snow that never stopped Ken

Every school in Leeds had a snow day.

Except Grangefield.

Why? One word: Ken.

Ken, the headteacher, had zero tolerance for weather-related softness.

It could be blizzarding sideways and he’d be there before sunrise, brushing off the steps with his coat still buttoned up from 1984.

“Wrap up and get in,” he’d say. “It’s only a bit of snow. Builds resilience.”

And so you’d trudge in, soaked through, boots squeaking on the lino, while Crawshaw kids built snowmen and laughed at us from afar.

Someone once turned up with carrier bags on their feet. Another lad wore ski goggles. A full form group staged a protest by refusing to remove scarves indoors – Ken made them sit outside in the playground for a “cooling off period”.

You could’ve had a full-on nuclear winter, ash falling from the sky, sirens wailing – and you’d still spot Ken, striding through the haze, coffee in one hand, caretaker’s keys in the other, muttering “bit of frost never hurt anyone.”

Scarves? Optional.
Blazers? Mandatory.
Excuses? Absolutely not.

Character was built. Fingers were lost.
But the gates never, ever closed.

3. Lake District carnage: Rugby lads vs the farm-hardened children of the North

The Year 9 Lake District trip was billed as “team bonding” for the rugby and hockey squads. What it became was an unhinged social experiment.

Picture it: two minibuses full of Pudsey city lads pulling into a muddy field to face off against kids raised on sheep, quad bikes and barbed wire. These farm lads weren’t playing rugby – they were playing for dominance. And we didn’t stand a chance.

The matches were chaos. Tackles became scraps. Jerseys got torn. One lad tried to fake a hammy just to get out of it.

But the fights weren’t the only thing heating up…

Every night, under the cover of “toilet breaks” and “checking the weather”, relations bloomed between the rugby lads and the hockey girls.

There were whispered meet-ups behind the dorms. Awkward hand-holding near the tuck shop. And one very unfortunate attempt at smuggling cider disguised as orange juice that ended in deep shame and a letter home.

Also – sheep chasing.

We don’t know why. We don’t know who started it. But at one point, three Year 9s and a half-eaten pasty were seen sprinting across a field after a terrified ewe named Barbara.

She was fine. The Year 9s were not.

4. Smokers’ Corner: Grangefield’s untouchable embassy

Hidden behind the portacabins – where the air was thick with Lynx Africa, chewing gum and mild rebellion – sat Smokers’ Corner.

It wasn’t marked on any map. You just knew. Sixth form ruled the patch. Year 10s occasionally tried to sneak in, usually left traumatised.

Teachers turned a blind eye. As long as you weren’t setting fire to the bins, it was a live-and-let-fume arrangement.

Rumour has it one afternoon, a music teacher walked right through it holding a flute and didn’t bat an eye.

It wasn’t about smoking. It was about presence. Power. And who could bring the best sausage roll from Greggs without getting caught.

5. Sweet Memories, Auntie Ann, and the lunchtime underground

Sweet Memories wasn’t just a sweet shop. It was a sanctuary.

Run by the lovely but no-nonsense Auntie Ann (as the kids declared her), it sold everything from 10p mix bags to sweet bracelets that the kids would fire at each other, like some kind of Shaving Ryan’s Privates re-enactment. Please excuse the autocorrect.

But there was a problem: you weren’t allowed off school premises at lunch without a signature in your diary.

So what did students do?

They hid. In the stockroom.

Auntie Ann, bless her, would usher you through to the back if you saw the head or assistant head doing a surprise patrol.

You’d crouch next to boxes of Curly Wurlies, nibbling Fruit Salads in silence like you were in an underground resistance movement.

She never dobbed anyone in.

She just gave you a nod, a flying saucer, and told you not to knock over the Vimto crates.

Legend.

Auntie Ann also happens to be me mum, so if you have any issues with this blog, take it up with her, she holds some responsibility for this garbage.

6. Mr Sharp and the Great Candle Catastrophe

Right, everybody has that uncle who, on Bonfire Night 1994, nearly set fire to the next door neighbour’s fence with a cheap firework and too much confidence. Mr Sharp was that uncle. Except he had a Bunsen burner and a Year 9 science class.

What was meant to be a simple demonstration – “energy release”, he called it – quickly turned into a full-scale health and safety breach. He wheeled out a six-foot cardboard candle, carefully crafted and absolutely not risk-assessed.

The plan? Light the top like one of those fireworks that stays on the ground and gently sprays sparkles. The reality? A homemade rocket that fired flames at the ceiling like it had a personal vendetta against the roof tiles.

He lit it. It hissed. It launched. Straight upwards – WOOSH – into the ceiling tiles like a rocket-powered Christmas decoration. The top blew out in a spectacular fountain of sparks, smoke filled the room, and someone near the front actually yelped.

The fire alarm went off.
People ducked.
A girl near the window shouted “IS THIS NORMAL?!”

Mr Sharp, cool as anything, just turned to the class, arms folded, and said:

“And that, lads, is why we respect energy.”

He then opened a window and asked if anyone had a ruler long enough to poke the scorch mark.

We never looked at candles – or ceiling tiles – the same again.

7. The IT suite, where dreams and RAM went to die

Sometime in the noughties, Grangefield proudly declared itself a “Maths & Computing School.”

This was a lie.

The IT rooms were held together with Blu Tack and sheer willpower.

The mice still had those plastic balls that needed cleaning every thirty seconds just to let you play Miniclip games. The monitors were thicker than a Year 8 lunchbox. Printing a worksheet was a gamble – if it worked, great. If not, the printer would whir for 12 minutes then spit out a half-page with the words “ERROR: UNKNOWN”.

Typing “cheese” into Google would set off a siren three rooms away, and men wearing dark suits and blacked out sunglasses would follow you around school for the rest of the day.

One theory? The IT department was a front for something bigger. Possibly MI5. Possibly a pyramid scheme. Possibly just very tired admin staff.

One tech was once seen coding in a language that didn’t exist and sipping a Red Bull at 8:45am. You don’t ask questions. You just log off and leave.

8. Radio Grangefield, Friday World, and the concert that set off the smoke alarm

Radio Grangefield was less of a radio station and more of a lunchtime takeover.

Every Friday, without fail, you’d be halfway through your turkey twizzlers when the speakers in the hall would erupt into “MONDAY CYCLING, TUESDAY GYMNASTICS, DANCING ON A FRIDAY NIGHT” – that unmistakable glam rock howl from The Darkness signalling the beginning of Friday World.

Distorted. Deafening. Glorious.

It became the unofficial anthem of the school. Even now, if you play it near a former Grangefield kid, they’ll instinctively look for a vending machine and a bag of Space Raiders.

But the real legend?

The school concert.

Held in the main hall. Full audience. Parents, carers, grandparents – all sat politely on those little blue chairs that ruin your spine.

A student band got up to play. They were decent. Confident. A bit too confident.

They cranked up the gain.

A guitar squealed.

Someone’s amp buzzed like a wasp in a biscuit tin.

And then… one of the speakers started smoking.

Actual smoke.

Out of the top.

In front of a hundred stunned parents, two teachers with clipboards, and one kid’s dad who just muttered “that’s not right, that”.

The performance was stopped.

The fire service was called.

Someone opened a window.

And the speaker was never seen again.

The stuff of legends.

9. The great lunchtime pint scandal (a.k.a. the Shamrock sting)

Now, most staff kept things professional. Most.

But everyone heard the rumours – that certain teachers, every so often, would “nip out” at lunchtime for a quiet half at The Shamrock. Just one. Maybe two. Just to “clear their heads before Year 10 Chemistry”.

It all came undone one fateful Friday, when a group of kids – out on a perfectly innocent, totally unsanctioned lunch dash to Wetherby Whaler – spotted two teachers sat by the window of The Shamrock on Delph Hill, pints in hand, deep in conversation and clearly not in a rush to return to GCSE English.

The kids, armed with sausage, chips, and a bright blue Panda Pop (for only £2, if I recall!), did what any Grangefield student would do:

They legged it back and told everyone.

By afternoon, the whole school knew.

By Monday, the story had evolved into a full-blown pub crawl involving the entire science department and a karaoke machine.

Was it true? Partly.

Was it hilarious? Absolutely.

Was it the last time anyone got caught by a passing pupil with a grease-stained Wetherby Whaler bag? You bet.

The canteen pizza scandal, Jamie Oliver’s war on joy, and the blazer meltdown of ‘06

Let’s talk about the canteen – or, as we knew it, the Department of Financial Ruin and Crust.

You’d line up for 20 minutes, elbowed in the ribs, sweating through your blazer just to get handed a £2.80 triangle of sorrow masquerading as “pizza”.

Thin as a worksheet. Toppings spread like someone had sneezed pepperoni across it. And always – always – slightly sweaty.

They called it a “meal deal”.

It came with a bottle of warm water and a dry flapjack.

And it made you want to cry.

Then came the vending machine apocalypse.

One week: you could grab a Snickers, a bottle of Panda Pop, and still have change for chips.

Next week?

Gone. Vanished. Ripped out like a dodgy filling.

Why?

Because of Jamie bloody Oliver.

The lad stormed in with his smug face and his sodding butternut squash, waving about “child health” and “nutrition” while ripping the heart out of school life.

He ruined it for everyone.

No more crisps. No more Lucozade. No more late-afternoon Mars Bars to get you through GCSE revision hell.

Just carrot batons in cling film and sad little pots of raisins.

What kind of psycho hands out raisins as a snack? That’s hamster food.

And if you dared say owt? You got told to “make healthy choices” by someone flogging jacket potatoes so dry they came with a warning label.

Jamie, if you’re reading this: we remember. We still talk about it. And we still think you’re a prick.

AND THEN – as if the food betrayal wasn’t enough – came the great summer uniform standoff.

Every year without fail, Leeds would hit 34°C and the sun would start melting bin lids.

Other schools adapted.

Grangefield said:

“Blazers on. Top button. No exceptions.”

It was like the school was sponsored by Heatstroke UK.

Kids were passing out in corridors.

The one working water fountain sounded like a dying badger.

Someone used a science folder as a sun hat.

Teachers were doing registers with sweat patches shaped like the map of Wales.

But did they budge?

Did they hell.

Because if there’s one thing Grangefield taught us, it’s that suffering builds character – especially in polyester.

All names, events and flaming cardboard candles may or may not be 100% accurate. It’s funnier that way. All stories are however, rooted in some fact.

The post The urban legends of Pudsey Grangefield appeared first on The Pudsey Blog.

Here are seven very good reasons to give our town a miss – especially if you like your surroundings dull, your streets messy, and your locals indifferent.

1. Everyone’s far too friendly

It’s honestly uncomfortable. People in Pudsey will smile at you, say hello, sometimes even ask how your day’s going – even if you’ve never met them before. There’s no emotional detachment, no big city scowls, just decent humans being… well, decent…. Ok, most of them.

You’ll leave feeling slightly suspicious, wondering if they’re trying to sell you something. And hey – if you are in a shop, they probably are. So go on, open your wallet, treat yourself to something nice. Towns like this only thrive when folk support the ones keeping the shutters up.

Also, as someone who spends a lot of time behind a camera, I can confirm Pudsey folk don’t just smile – they’ll ask what lens you’re using and then tell you about a cousin who used to do weddings in the ’80s. Listen here, Jeffrey, this isn’t the 80s and nobody shoots film anymore… well, us normal folk don’t anyway. Go polish your Praktica. Not that I know what that is.

2. The paths are disgustingly walkable

Some towns leave their paths overgrown and full of dog muck, like a proper obstacle course. Not Pudsey. Thanks to groups like Pudsey Paths Partnership, Litter Free Pudsey and Friends of Pudsey Cemetery the footpaths are clear, tidy, and really very pleasant.

They’re out there mowing, strimming, litter picking and making everything look lovely – without even being told to. Imagine that. People tidying up… for free. Where’s the chaos? Where’s the sense of neglect? What’s this country coming to?

3. There’s green stuff everywhere

Trees. Parks. Wildflowers. Birds chirping. It’s relentless. You can’t move for open spaces and scenic walks. Pudsey Park, Post Hill, Fulneck Valley, Queens Park – it’s like someone dropped a village into a nature reserve and forgot to warn my sinuses.

As someone who suffers with absolutely raging hayfever, I can confirm: Pudsey is a hostile environment for anyone with an allergy to beauty and pollen. One stroll through Fulneck and my eyes are streaming like I’ve just watched the end of Marley & Me.

If you were hoping for grey concrete and the sweet scent of exhaust fumes, you’ll be absolutely furious at the sheer amount of oxygen floating around here. Too fresh. Too natural. Too green. Disgusting, it really is.

I once sneezed 14 times walking through Fulneck. True story. I counted. Still took photos though, because I’m committed to both local pride and upper respiratory distress.

4. The place is crawling with volunteers

Whether it’s the Pudsey Wombles (that’s our litter pickers, for those not fluent in Yorkshire civic slang), you’ll find people out tidying up like it’s an Olympic sport. Armed with hi-vis, grabbers, and an almost suspicious level of enthusiasm, they roam the streets hunting down stray crisp packets like they owe ‘em money.

You might think it’s all council work. In fact nope, you won’t, because they’re nowhere to be seen. It’s just our locals who’ve had enough of your empty Lucozade bottle being lobbed in a hedge. You’ve not known true shame until you’ve been silently judged by a Womble in a tabard while holding a Greggs wrapper.

Volunteering in Pudsey means you might spend Saturday strimming a verge, painting a bench, then being offered a biscuit by someone’s nan who insists you look “peaky”. I wasn’t peaky, Sandra – I was just sweating out my soul in a hi-vis.

5. The local blog’s got no rules, schedule, or plan

There’s no editorial board. No team of consultants. No big secret council conspiracy. Just one person writing daft things about Pudsey when they feel like it… bit like this sodding post, I mean, who reads this crap, really?

Sometimes a business or event might get a mention. Sometimes they won’t. It’s not personal – it’s just that there’s only so many hours in a day and this blog isn’t powered by a team of 47 interns and an espresso machine. I don’t like espresso, so why the hell would it?

There’s always something going on – last month I accidentally ended up at three events in one day, took 2000 photos, and somehow also fixed someone’s website between sandwiches. This blog doesn’t write itself. Though if it did, I’d probably still get blamed when it doesn’t mention someone’s raffle or their 6-year-old’s yard sale. Sorry Billy, I didn’t realise your five faded Hot Wheels and a broken Peppa Pig keyboard were a major community event.

6. You’ll never keep up with what’s going on

Honestly, Pudsey’s busier than a ferret in a fireworks factory. The calendar’s packed tighter than that one guy’s opinion in the Facebook group who thinks he runs the town because he once met Geoff from Parks & Countryside.

Markets? Check. History talks? Yep. Clean-up days? Every god damn day, mate. Galas, festivals, beer? Oh, so much beer. The town’s practically powered by real ale and raffle tickets.

Pudsey’s that mate who’s always “just nipping out to summat” – a dog show, a jumble sale, a vintage tractor parade – while you’re still in your pyjamas, scrolling aimlessly and trying to remember if it’s Tuesday.

If you’re after a sleepy little backwater where nowt ever happens and people sit quietly doing bugger all… well, you’ve taken a very wrong turn, love. Here, even the ducks have a to-do list.

7. You might actually enjoy yourself

The worst part is, if you do come here… you might actually start liking it. You’ll find your new favourite park, smash a bacon sarnie that ruins you for all others, get a pint that doesn’t require a mortgage, and nod back at the random fella who just waved like he’s known you since cubs.

Next thing you know, you’re checking the local events, chatting to volunteers, and following a sarcastic little blog run by some lad who builds websites for a living and thinks civic pride is sexy.

And then? You’re done.

You care. You belong. You’re one of us now.

We’ll get you a hi-vis, a litter picker, and an opinion about the town centre car parks. There’s no escape.
Welcome home.

BONUS REASON: The Cycle Superhighway – one of the 8.5 Wonders of the Modern World – passes through Pudsey

Yes, that’s right. Pudsey is blessed with a section of the grandly named Cycle Superhighway – a title so ambitious, you’d think it was designed by NASA and blessed by the Pope.

In reality, it’s less “superhighway” and more a thrilling obstacle course of parked cars, potholes, and near-death experiences. One minute you’re gliding along a freshly painted cycle lane, the next you’re swerving round a badly parked BMW with tinted windows and zero remorse, while an Audi driver gives you the look like you’re the inconvenience.

It disappears at random, reappears somewhere else entirely, and occasionally throws you straight into oncoming traffic just for fun. It’s not a bike lane – it’s a test of character. And brake pads.

Ride at your own risk. Or better yet – don’t.

So yeah. Don’t visit Pudsey. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.

If you are into that sort of thing… well, see you down the park. I’ll be the one avoiding my inbox and pretending I’m not writing another one of these, because some of our locals HATE them.

I just want to be loved.

The post 7 Reasons You Should NOT Visit Pudsey This Summer appeared first on The Pudsey Blog.

1. Pudsey Park – The jewel in Pudsey’s crown

If you do nowt else in Pudsey this summer, get yourself to Pudsey Park. It’s had a proper spruce-up lately, with the new(ish) play area now bigger, better, and full of colour – perfect for little’uns to burn off some energy.

The skate park’s a favourite with the teens (and the brave grown-ups), and there’s a cracking little bowls green if you fancy something more civilised.

Don’t miss the ice cream hut – it’s the real star on a sunny day, serving up your old favourites, magnums and all that. The bandstand’s still standing proud too, a nod to the park’s heritage, and often the stage for bands, and the odd sing-song when the sun’s out. Whether you’re chasing squirrels, lounging on the grass, or just nipping in for a breather and a brew, Pudsey Park’s got that laid-back summer magic we all need.

2. Fulneck – A taste of days gone by

Just a short walk from Pudsey centre and you’ll find yourself in Fulneck, a peaceful little village steeped in history. Founded by Moravian settlers in the 18th century, it’s like stepping into another world – cobbled paths, Georgian architecture, and views that stretch right across the valley. There’s a quiet charm here that’s hard to beat.

Take a wander round the Moravian Church and its historic settlement, where everything feels a little slower and calmer. Pop into the Fulneck Moravian Museum (open on select days) for a glimpse into the town’s religious and cultural heritage, get in a round of golf at Fulneck Golf Club, or treat yourself to tea, cake and some fabulous pottery painting at Oh Hello – a hidden gem for homemade cakes and Yorkshire brews. 

Fulneck truly is a cracking spot for a walk, a photo, or a quiet moment with a view.

3. Pudsey Market – Nothing says Yorkshire like a traditional market

Now I know Pudsey is claimed to be a historic market town – it isn’t. It’s a historic textile town. However… the market we’ve got today is still a proper gem and well worth a visit. Running Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, Pudsey Market is where locals gather, gossip flows as freely as the kettle, and there’s always a bargain to be had.

You’ll find stalls stacked with fresh produce, clothing, books, fishing tackle, tasty Indian delights, bedding and all sorts of bits you didn’t know you needed ‘til you saw ‘em. The traders are a friendly bunch too – some have been here decades and know everyone by name. (Hi, Fred!) There’s a cracking atmosphere on market days, and if you’re lucky, you might stumble across one of the themed events or artisan pop-ups. It’s not where our town started, but it’s definitely where Pudsey’s heart beats loudest now.

4. Bankhouse and Tong Valley – The countryside, right here in Pudsey

If you’re after a pint with a view, The Bankhouse Inn is the spot. Tucked away on the edge of Pudsey, this traditional country pub has one of the finest beer gardens in West Yorkshire – rolling hills, open skies, and a proper pint in hand. The food’s top notch too, with Sunday roasts, stacked burgers, and the kind of hearty Yorkshire fare that’ll keep you well fuelled for a ramble.

It’s just a stone’s throw from Fulneck, walk straight down from the Bankhouse pub and you’ll find yourself heading down into the beautiful Tong Valley, a proper green escape right on Pudsey’s doorstep. The walk between Pudsey and Tong Village is a local favourite, weaving through meadows, quiet woods and over little streams. Tong itself is like stepping back in time – think sleepy lanes, old stone cottages, and even a historic church if you fancy a nosey. It’s one of those rare places that feels miles from anywhere, but it’s right here in our back yard.

Fun fact: I’m reliably informed that the stocks found at the front of St James in Tong, were actually the Pudsey town stocks.

5. Pubs – We’re not short of an ale or two, ‘ere in Pudsey

Pudsey’s not short on character, and that goes double for its pubs. We’ve got watering holes that have seen off world wars, hosted wedding parties, cricket celebrations, and more than a few badly-sung karaoke nights. The Manor Inn is a local town-centre staple with a cosy, old-school vibe and regular live music nights. 

Up t’road we’ve got plenty of boozers that have stood the test of time, each with its own flavour and following. The Royal Hotel brings the buzz with a lively atmosphere, a sprawling beer garden out back, and a dedicated outdoor bar and BBQ that gets firing in summer – ideal for sunny pints and weekend sessions. Just round t’corner, The Commercial Inn keeps things traditional. It doesn’t serve food, but it more than makes up for it with regular band nights, good company, and a lovely little beer garden both front and back for when the weather behaves. The Golden Lion is another classic – top-quality ales, friendly as owt, and known for its live music. It’s also gearing up for the much-loved Lion Fest this August, a proper celebration of music, beer and community spirit.

And don’t forget The Fox & Grapes up on Smalewell Road. It’s a cosy spot for food and a pint, with easy access to Tong Valley and the cut-throughs over to Tyersal if you fancy stretching your legs. There’s many more gems around town too, these are just some of our favourites.  All told, if it’s a good pub crawl you’re after, Pudsey’s not just ready – it’s practically rolling out the welcome mat.

6. Restaurants & Cafes – You’ll never go hungry, here in Pudsey

Whether you’re after a slap-up meal, a cheesy nibble, or a brew and a bun, we’ve got you sorted. For dining out, Gigi’s is a top choice for proper Italian comfort food, and 7 Steps brings big flavours, seasonal menus, and a lovely upstairs dining space perfect for date nights or birthdays. The Cheesy Living Co. is a newer addition but already a local fave – graze boards, wine, and more cheese than you can shake a cracker at. And if you’re in the mood for spice, Lala’s never misses – it’s won multiple awards and has big portions, bold flavours, and the naans are the size of your head.

A fair few of our historic pubs mentioned earlier also do cracking food – The Bankhouse is known for its roasts and pub classics, and The Fox & Grapes serves up hearty meals in a cosy setting. If you’re after a pint and a plate, you’re in safe hands.

When it comes to cafés, Pudsey’s cup runneth over. The legendary Olde Booths Tea Rooms has been fuelling locals with homemade cakes, afternoon tea, sandwiches and pots of tea for decades – it’s the OG. Then there’s CODI Kitchen, known to many of us as good old Granny’s Kitchen back in the day, still serving hearty breakfasts and top coffee. Mary’s Kitchen is a newer arrival, already making waves with its fresh menu and warm vibes. And there’s plenty more to discover down every ginnel and side street.

And let’s talk chippy tea. Pudsey’s blessed with some of the best fish shops in Leeds – The Bearded Sailor is legendary for its crispy batter and chunky chips, Petty’s is an old-school favourite that never lets you down, and Wetherby Whaler has that classic seaside feel right in the middle of town. Whether you eat in, take out or find a bench in the park, you’re never far from a good feed in Pudsey.

7. Shop local – We do it properly

There’s nowt like a high street with some graft behind it, and Pudsey’s still got a cracking mix of traditional shops that keep the town feeling real. For your meat and pies, we’ve got some belters. Frank Eshelby’s is an institution – family-run and full of character, their cuts are top notch and the service is always spot on. Over on Robin Lane, Bentley’s, now known as Blake Henrys, is famous for its homemade pies – thick crust, rich fillings, the works. And tucked away in Booths Yard, Growlers is a newer addition turning heads with its homemade pies and proper hearty grub. They’re the kind of pies that make you pause mid-bite and go, “Oof.”

If you’re after fruit and veg, Pudsey Greengrocer on Lidget Hill is as fresh as it comes – stacked high with colourful produce and run by folk who actually know what’s in season without Googling it. Need a few extras for your Sunday roast or picnic in the park? Head up to Tomlinson’s Farm Shop on Roker Lane. They’ve got a bit of everything – fresh meat, pies, bread, cheese, sweet treats, and a lovely down-to-earth feel. You can pop in for “just a loaf” and come out with tea for the week and a Yorkshire Parkin you didn’t plan for (but absolutely deserve).

In a world full of big chains and click-to-buy, Pudsey’s traditional shops are a breath of fresh Yorkshire air – and well worth supporting.

And here’s one of our greatest business initiatives: Pudsey Lottery. A local gem that lets you win Pudsey Pounds – a currency you can spend in loads of our brilliant local shops, cafes, and businesses. It’s all about supporting independents, putting money back into the town, and giving you a proper reason to say “it could be me” every week. It’s the kind of scheme that other towns wish they had. Envy of Leeds? Aye, you bet it is.

Bonus: Pudsey’s Sporting Heritage

We don’t like to brag (much), but Pudsey’s sporting roots run deep. We’re talking proper legends here – Sir Len Hutton, one of England’s greatest ever cricketers, was born right here in Pudsey, and Ray Illingworth too, who captained England and made a name as one of the sharpest cricketing minds of his time. Cricket is in Pudsey’s bones, and we’ve still got two cracking clubs going strong today: Pudsey St Lawrence and Pudsey Congs. Ask any local and they’ll have a story (or ten) about nail-biters on the green and future stars in whites.

But we’re not stuck in the past – Pudsey’s sporting spirit is thriving. Pudsey Juniors Football Club has hundreds of young’uns lacing up their boots every weekend, and we’ve got teams like Leeds 28 FC, Stanningley Albion, and Stanningley RLFC keeping the beautiful game (and the rough ‘n’ ready one) alive and well. Whether it’s cricket, rugby or football, Pudsey’s always had a knack for growing talent, building teams, and rallying the town behind a muddy kit and a last-minute winner. Sport’s not just a pastime here – it’s part of who we are.

The post 7 reasons to visit Pudsey this summer appeared first on The Pudsey Blog.

1. Pudsey has its very own theatre!

Based in Fulneck, the theatre is run by the Fulneck Dramatic Society. The theatre was founded in 1924 under the name Fulneck Amateur Operatic Society, they were known for very successful operettas and plays up until 1951 when they became Fulneck Dramatic Society, the society still exists to this day. If you’re interested in finding out more about the theatre and the Dramatic Society, they are holding their next performance beginning the 7th March “A chorus of disapproval”. Find out more on the MyPudsey events calendar.

Find out more about Fulneck Dramatic Society over on their website: https://www.fulneckdramaticsociety.co.uk/

2. A Pudsey businessman once had two different shops flattened by a tram

Fred Coe was once a prominent Pudsey businessman, and also served as a Pudsey Councillor and Pudsey Mayor during his lifetime. Fred was also quite possibly the unluckiest businessman to have once walked the streets of our town. Fred owned what is believed to be a hat & dress shop on Lowtown in Pudsey, much to Fred’s disappointment his shop was one day flattened by a tram. A fairly unbelievable occurrence, and one that you wouldn’t think would go on to be repeated… So poor old Fred reopened his shop at the bottom of Stanningley, happy in the confidence he couldn’t be so unlucky again… However, Fred was to be proven wrong when a second tram flattened his new shop. At the time Pudsey folk joked it was all a setup, an insurance job to allow Fred to open other shops… Pudsey folk, eh?

3. A small piece of Pudsey demolished in the 1920s can still be found in Pudsey Park

Many people know of the small drinking fountain at the far end of the play park, but how many of you know the origins of this fountain? Known as the William Dibb Scales drinking fountain, this piece of history once formed a larger structure by the old park lake. The structure was made of sandstone which couldn’t withstand the pollution and air quality and therefore was demolished in the 1920s, but a piece still remains to this day and who knows… Maybe you have taken a drink from it?

4. The founder of Leeds General Infirmary was born in Pudsey

Those of you that joined us last year for our very first Pudsey spooky tours will be familiar with the name William Hey, you may even remember the striking photo of the handsome chap you see above. Hey was born in Pudsey on the 23rd August 1736 and resided on Radcliffe Lane. An eminent surgeon of the time, Hey invented the “Hey saw”,  a wonderful little contraption that was designed to make removing the top of people’s skulls a much easier process. By the time he passed, Hey had quite the CV. Not only had he invented surgical tools and procedures, he also went on to become the Mayor of Leeds as well as being one of the founding members of Leeds General Infirmary.

5. Pudsey Cenotaph is the only Cenotaph in the world known to have human remains within and underneath

Another little fact that those of you who attended our spooky tours will now know, Pudsey Cenotaph is the only Cenotaph in the world known to have human remains buried within and underneath the structure. The word Cenotaph is derived from the Greek word kenotaphion, which literally means “empty tomb”. Pudsey, never to do things by halves decided ours wouldn’t follow the crowd and the structure was erected on the site of the old Pudsey Chapel and burial ground. For this reason the Cenotaph contains and stands over human remains. On some dark, cold, winter evenings some people say you can still catch a glimpse of those that once walked the cobbles.

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