Alf first observed Donald’s impulsive nature during the course of that interview in 1940. Donald suggested they should go to see a few of the farms in the practice. He allowed Alf about two seconds to get into the car before hurtling off down the road. The two men roared round the country roads at breakneck speed while Alf concentrated on maintaining his composure in a seat that moved freely backwards and forwards on the floor of the car. They were accompanied on this hair-raising ride by six dogs who seemed to enjoy every minute of it.
It was not only the speed that alarmed Alf as they shot round the practice; Donald had a rather unorthodox method of holding the steering wheel – steering with his elbows while his chin remained cupped in his hands. This disturbing habit, which he maintained until his old age, was one that was observed with disbelief by many more rigid passengers.
Alf soon realised that he was in the company of a man very different from the average human being and he was to receive another surprise when, after a lightning tour of the surgery premises at Kirkgate, Donald offered him the job. There had been other applicants but this impulsive man, who had taken an instant liking to the young vet, did not wish to waste any time. Not only was he about to join the Royal Air Force himself, but his then assistant – a young man called Eric Parker – had informed Donald that he, too, would soon be leaving the practice to join the Air Force. Donald, who urgently wanted someone to run his practice while he was away, warned Alf that it would be hard work as he would be running the business single-handed for an indeterminate length of time. His head reeling, Alf thanked him and returned to Sunderland to ponder his future.
Events had moved so fast he could hardly believe his luck. He had been offered a job while hundreds of other hopeful applicants were being turned down all over the country, but what would the future hold for him in Thirsk? Donald Sinclair was quite obviously an extraordinary man and he had only had a glimpse of the practice on the whirlwind tour. An unknown world with a different way of life lay before him, but there was one aspect of Donald’s offer that he knew he could not refuse.
In those difficult days for young veterinary surgeons, the acquisition of some job security was, for most of them, little more than a dream. Alf was, astonishingly, offered a salaried partnership before he had even accepted the job. Rather than receiving a salary while Donald was away in the Royal Air Force, Alf would receive five-eighths of the profits of the practice – helping himself to any cash that he could generate in the course of his work. After Donald’s return, Alf was promised a salary of four guineas per week in addition to a share in the profits made while doing extra work for the Ministry of Agriculture.
Alf knew he would have a busy time ahead if he accepted. As well as doing the work of two men while Donald was away, he would also be balancing the books and running the Kirkgate premises, but it all added up to a tempting financial carrot for a penniless young man.
Money, however, was not everything. Alf knew he wanted to work in an environment that he could enjoy, and his first glimpse of Yorkshire had been an eye-opener. Instead of a drab, industrial landscape, he had seen rich, green fields and attractive little villages nestling at the foot of the Hambleton Hills. The thought of working in such pleasant surroundings appealed to him. Thirsk, with its collection of uneven buildings clustered around the cobbled market place, had an atmosphere of friendliness and charm. It was in marked contrast to the grey, windswept streets of Sunderland.
The unusual character of his prospective employer did not mar these positive thoughts. Donald Sinclair may have been a little eccentric in his behaviour but Alf had instinctively liked him from the moment they had first shaken hands. He had an honest and open face, together with a sharp sense of humour and an appealing personality.
The dearth of available jobs in 1940 decreed that Alf needed to make his mind up quickly, and he did. He informed McDowall of Donald’s offer and then wrote immediately to Donald advising him that he would accept the job.
Mac was sorry to lose his young colleague, but he knew that Alf would not have stayed in Sunderland for long. He understood why the ambitious young man had been looking for a permanent post, with better prospects than he could ever offer him.
Alf travelled down to Yorkshire with his meagre belongings, arriving in Thirsk on 18 July 1940, and took up residence in one of the upstairs rooms of 23 Kirkgate. After spending a few days travelling round the practice with Donald and Eric Parker to acquaint himself with the area, he signed his contract as a salaried partner on 24 July, and began work two days later. As he set off on his rounds on that July day, little did he know that, many years later, he would turn Donald Sinclair’s business at 23 Kirkgate into the most famous veterinary practice in the world.
CHAPTER EIGHT
In the early years of his literary success as James Herriot, Alf Wight wrapped a cloak of secrecy around the true location of Darrowby, revealing to no one the identity of the people on whom his characters were based. His portrayal of Darrowby was deliberately altered and is described in the books as being in the High Dales country, surrounded by wild fells and green valleys, with drystone walls snaking down towards the little town. His efforts to insulate himself, his friends and this area of Yorkshire from the explosion of publicity in the early 1970s were not very successful. It was not long before the media publicity had revealed that he lived in Thirsk, and it was his experiences in this Yorkshire market town that provided the greater part of the material for his books.
The vast majority of the incidents recounted within the stories happened in and around Thirsk, not in the Yorkshire Dales over twenty miles away. Thirsk was Darrowby and Alfred Wight, despite his enormous love for that area, could never be described as a Dales veterinary surgeon.
A postcard from Thirsk, sent by Alf to his parents on the day he arrived there in July 1940, shows that the town has not really changed a great deal in appearance over the years. There is a refreshing absence of motor vehicles in the old picture, but the unevenly roofed buildings surrounding the cobbled market place are very familiar. It was in this rural environment, far removed from his city upbringing, that he was to lay the foundations of a successful career as a veterinary surgeon. 23 Kirkgate, that he would years later make famous as ‘Skeldale House’, would be his home for the next twelve years, and his practice premises for the whole of his professional life.
Alf’s feelings for the house and garden are clearly expressed in chapter 2 of his book If Only They Could Talk, where he describes seeing it for the very first time:
I liked the look of the old house. It was Georgian with a fine, white-painted doorway.… The paint was flaking and the mortar looked crumbly between the bricks, but there was a changeless elegance about the place.…
I was shown into a sunlit room. It had been built in the grand manner, high-ceilinged and airy with a massive fireplace flanked by arched alcoves. One end was taken up by a french window which gave on a long, high-walled garden. I could see unkempt lawns, a rockery and many fruit trees. A great bank of peonies blazed in the hot sunshine and at the far end, rooks cawed in the branches of a group of tall elms.…
Sunshine beat back from the high old walls, bees droned among the bright masses of flowers. A gentle breeze stirred the withered blooms of a magnificent wistaria which almost covered the back of the house. There was peace here.