I WAS interested to see the undated photograph of Muker in Looking Back (D&S Times, July 10). Upon examining the photograph of the vehicle, it appears to have the fluted chrome inlay along its bonnet edge, so I believe that it is a Vauxhall.

However, I would suggest that the year was around 1959 when I was 14 years. I was a member of the Morley Cycling Club in West Yorkshire. The camping section used to camp across Muker meadows by the wooden footbridge – the gabion walling wasn't there then and the grass area where we pitched our tents has disappeared.

Our camping section leader was Cyril Lockwood and his son John, like me, was 14. I recall that the landlady of the pub was a kindly person, as was her sister who ran the post office. Concerned at leaving John and I in a tent on a Saturday night, Cyril explained our dilemma to the landlady and consequently we were invited into the pub kitchen where we were allowed to sample the contents of a shared half! In those days it was a case of making your own entertainment and I was to discover that the owners of the house over the bridge opposite the Farmers Arms were from London. The gentleman was a Harley Street surgeon and he played the piano. Sadly, his planned retirement was curtailed somewhat when he died in the early 1960s.

The local farmers used to purchase clay pipes and the singalongs on Saturday nights were enjoyable occasions.

A fellow member of the Morley Cycling club was Beryl Burton, who won the women’s world road race championship seven times in the 1960s. In my school holidays, I used to work with her in the rhubarb sheds in what was known as “the Golden Triangle” between Wakefield, Morley and Rothwell. Several Morley Cycling club members prior to the Le Tour attended the unveiling of a blue plaque in her memory adjacent to the entrance to the Beryl Burton Garden in Morley. Maxine Peake, the producer of the play Beryl: A Love Story On Two Wheels, was present and subsequently we were invited to enjoy what was a magnificent production which was a tribute to the grit of a true Yorkshire lass.

Ken Walsh, Tunstall, Richmond.