A Wee Hello to Sylvia

After a whirlwind few days in London last Autumn, I caught my breath with my Auntie and Uncle P in West Yorkshire. Slower pace, strong cups of tea, and Yorkshire air - just what I needed. 

They kindly took me on a little pilgrimage to Heptonstall so I could say a quiet hello to Sylvia Plath. I brought a pen with me and left it at her grave - a small gesture of thanks to someone who has had a big impact on my creative life. 

Sylvia Plath’s grave - Parish Church of Heptonstall

As we arrived, we found ourselves among a hive of activity - local volunteers were out gardening, wheelbarrows trundling along the paths. One woman, mid-task, kindly stopped to show us the way. Somewhere nearby biscuits were definitely being handed out, although they didn’t pass my horizon. I’m quite partial to a Tunnocks teacake or fig roll ….

Sylvia Plath’s lemon meringue pie (her own recipe) - on sale at Towngate Tearoom, Heptonstall

Sylvia’s headstone reads “Sylvia Plath Hughes”. She was married to the poet Ted Hughes, and to this day, the grave is regularly vandalised by people trying to remove his surname. That detail alone says a lot about the intensity of feeling still wrapped up in her story. 

The Bell Jar - self portrait

I first read The Bell Jar as a teenager, and it had a profound impact on me. Until then, I’d thought of art as something polite - still life drawings, watercolours in frames. In contrast, Sylvia’s words had a rare intimacy, as if she were thinking out loud on the page. It made me realise that creativity could be messy, powerful, and deeply personal. That it could be a way of surviving. 

My visit to Heptonstall felt like a quiet thank you - to the writer who made teenage me feel seen. 

My Sylvia Plath inspired tattoo:

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am”

- The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath