INTERVIEW
Liz Hopper is MD of Bradford-based equestrian specialist Harry Hall
A place in Yorkshire that makes you smile?
We work closely with a Leeds-based charity Hope Pastures, which rescues, rehabilitates and rehomes horses, ponies and donkeys in need. They have a visitor centre where you’re able to meet some of the ponies. I love spending time there – the healing and therapeutic benefits of being around equines are proven, and the volunteers do an amazing job. There’s usually a cheeky Shetland pony peering its head over a stable door, which never fails to make me smile.
A place in Yorkshire that you love to eat at?
Sous le Nez in Leeds is my all-time favourite place to eat – a great hidden gem. As soon as you step down from street level into the restaurant, the ambience feels like you’re stepping into the Marais neighbourhood in Paris. The food is fabulous, there’s always a great atmosphere, and of course an excellent wine menu. I love France and try to holiday there every year, so Souz le Nez is a great at-home substitute.
A place in Yorkshire that you like to take friends?
A scenic drive from Grassington through Deepdale to Hawes, finishing at the Wensleydale Creamery for cheese tasting is always a winner.
The narrow road from Buckden takes you through some of Yorkshire’s most spectacular scenery. It climbs steeply in places and can be hair-raising at times until you reach the summit, where you can enjoy the views before dropping down into Hawes. Wandering around the cheese tasting room at the creamery is also a novel experience – we always come away with stacks of different artisan cheeses.
An early memory of Yorkshire?
My grandad was an active member of the Sheepdog Society and from a young age, I would join him and his crew of dogs to watch him compete at various shows around the county. I also fondly remember how smart he and his fellow competitors looked in their suits and hats.
My favourite show of the season was the Kilnsey Show in Wharfedale – I remember the great atmosphere with lots to watch, including the fell race. I was about seven years old when my grandad gave me my own whistle, known as a shepherd’s lip. It took me a while to master the technique.
