How to put the heart back into our lifeless town and city centres - Christa Ackroyd

Married to a policeman she trotted out every danger imaginable from getting run over to being abducted on the bus. In the end it was my calm, understanding more worldly dad who told her to let me go.

Town would be packed he said. I would be home before dark. And I had a tongue in my head if I needed help. At last I felt I was growing up.

Armed with my birthday money and weekly pocket money, only ever handed over after I had tidied my bedroom, I set off to to town by myself, persuading mum that it would be embarrassing if she insisted on coming with me.

All I wanted was a new top and unbeknown to my panicking parent, a lipstick. When on earth I thought I was going to get away with wearing that I have no idea. But it was the taste of freedom I relished.

And the fact that I could browse the clothes stores without my mum saying let’s go get a pattern and a fent of fabric and I will make you one.

In the end it was a shopping trip to end all shopping trips. And the first of many. Bradford was a bustling city in those days with the poshest of posh shops that were not for the likes of me.

In later life I came to enjoy the thrill of going into Brown Muffs with its brown monogrammed carpets and its glorious counters.

But in that moment all I wanted to do was to go to Chelsea girl or C and A for a stripey ribbed top and to the market to a stall which sold makeup.

I can even tell you the lipstick I bought Heather Shimmer by Rimmel even though it did make my lips look blue which according to my mum when I eventually dared to wear it, made me look ‘proper poorly’.

I didn’t care it was ‘the fashion’. And I had chosen it myself. By myself with friends.

Town was an exciting place. Shoppers queued outside the butchers in Ivegate for their famous pork pies. Swiss cake makers set out their shop windows with the most exotic and exciting fayre.

The Polish butchers in the food market sold spicey sausages a million miles removed from my mum’s simple yet delicious cooking.

And for those of us who wanted to be even more adventurous curry and chapattis eaten without cutlery were less than a pound.

Over the next few years we drank coffee and ice cream milk shakes in the myriad of coffee shops that sprang up in the seventies when we were much more a cup of tea and a bottle of pop kind of a household.

There was even one which had a string quartet, Rimmington’s which my grandma once took me to. Far less exciting than the juke box playing bustling establishments I later discovered.

Going ‘into town’ became a regular occurrence. Even my mum used to make the trip on the bus at least once a week. It was not only an adventure it was a pleasure.

By 14 I was selling knickers on a Saturday morning (only half days allowed) in the old ornate Kirkgate Market that was ripped down to make way for a concrete mass that ripped the heart of the city.

By 16 I had gone up in the world and had moved from Bradford to Shipley where I was selling pharmaceuticals and makeup at Boots which was great for staff discount and my growing makeup bag (mum still disapproved) and also introduced me to the then thriving outdoor market scene where you could get a three pairs of tights for a pound but only in American tan.

Shopping was fun, eclectic and part of our weekly routine. No more. Now we are told we prefer out of town shopping centres and buying online.

Town centres are struggling, shops are empty and and air of doom lies over our once thriving centres. And it is not our fault. And it is not all about money or ease of purchase.

Bradford is trying. There are many who sniffed at the thirty million plus spent on the city centre which has led to it looking more like a building site for months upon months.

We hadn’t even got over the decade of having to navigate around a huge hole in the ground for the much delayed shopping centre which is now built but is sadly just more of the same.

I want different. I want independent. I want choice. But above all I want to be able to park. And I don’t want to pay more than the cost of a lipstick to do so.

So here is the thing. Bradford is trying to reinvent itself. I like the city centre now it has finally been finished.

I like the pedestrian paving and the greenery. What I don’t like is the trauma of getting there and the cost of staying there.

In Ilkley, yes I know it’s posh – you can tell that by the quality of goods in the charity shops – they were bucking the trend. It was busy and bustling.

What’s more you could ‘pop in ‘ for a quick visit and park for an hour free of charge on the street. No more if the council gets their way. Bradford Council are looking at scrapping that.

They have also introduced parking charges in the village I have moved to Addingham resulting in the car parks being empty and the narrow streets dangerously crammed.

Ask any of the retailers and there are some lovely ones including an amazing hardware shop, great sandwich shop an independent clothes store and a wonderful village hub and social club and they will all tell you footfall is down. And what do you expect if you can’t park to go there?

What is more I am willing to bet you a pound to a parking ticket that it has cost Bradford council more to introduce than they are making.

The price of the ticket machines, the signage and the ‘policing’ of their new policy must surely outweigh the money being taken in the almost entirely empty care parks.

And the village is a less safe more frustrating place to even drive through let alone shop there as a result.

And don’t get me started on Leeds.

Last week for evening parking in a roughly bumpy uneven car park it cost me £8 to stay for less than three hours to help feed the homeless.

Me and the other dozen volunteers that help each week all grumbled that a year ago it was £4. Which adds up to almost £500 a year to help meet a need that we shouldn’t even have. And it’s not right.

Even the train fare has gone up by £2 which means neither is more cost effective and both equally frustrating.

And then you wonder why our towns and cities are empty. As are many of the shops. So here is an idea.

A thriving centre adds to a retail experience and puts money into the coffers through extremely expensive business rates. Failing shops and a reduced footfall does neither.

So instead of scrapping an hours free parking why not add to it. Why not encourage businesses to start up by giving them three months free in the many empty units that make our towns and cities appear run down and unloved.

I am willing to bet that there are enough entrepreneurs out there who would give it a go and guess what if they are successful they may continue and pay for the privilege so adding to a vibrant mix for shoppers and more cash for local councils.

It’s not rocket science is it? By trying to claw back money from shoppers, who are losing the kind of shops they want to actually shop in, the councils are on a hiding to nothing.

And with it the habit of actually going out to shop.

Yes Covid taught us everything is available to buy from our arm chair. But there is still something wonderful about spending a few hours wandering in and out of stores. But here I would add a note to retailers.

Make sure there is someone actually there on the tills when we do venture in. And try and look interested or at least appear helpful.

It is funny we go abroad and we shop. We give out Christmas a birthday money to our little ones to buy something they would really like.

And that in my day used to take all day in town. It was exciting. It was different. It was easy to get to and enough going on to make us stay.

As my mum used to say .. ‘you’ve been out all day and only come back with a top?’ And yes we did. Because it was fun and window shopping was free.

Oh and also she didn’t know about my first ever lipstick hidden in my first ever suede tasseled handbag. That revelation was to be saved for another day.