Without the help and willing cooperation of all these people, the completion of this book would not have been possible.

Photographic credit

The author would like to thank his family and friends for providing many of the photographs which appear in this book. In addition, the author acknowledges the following for permission to reproduce photographs. Every effort has been made to contact all copyright holders: the publishers will be glad to make good in future editions any errors or omissions brought to their attention.

Life Magazine25, 33, 39; Daily Express26 and 31; Sunday Express32; Desmond O’Neill Features 34; Barratts Photo Press 40; Ian Cook /People Weekly41; Evening Press (York) 43

BIBLIOGRAPHY

(First American edition is listed in bold.)

IF ONLY THEY COULD TALK Michael Joseph 1970; Pan Books 1973

IT SHOULDN’T HAPPEN TO A VET Michael Joseph 1972; Pan Books 1973

published together in an omnibus volume

ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL Michael Joseph 1975; Pan Books 1976; St. Martin’s Press 1972

LET SLEEPING VETS LIE Michael Joseph 1973; Pan Books 1974

VET IN HARNESS Michael Joseph 1974; Pan Books 1975

published together in an omnibus volume

ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL Michael Joseph 1976; Pan Books 1978; St Martin’s Press 1974

VETS MIGHT FLY Michael Joseph 1976; Pan Books 1977

VET IN A SPIN Michael Joseph 1977; Pan Books 1978

published together in an omnibus volume

ALL THINGS WISE AND WONDERFUL Michael Joseph 1978; Pan Books

1979; St Martin’s Press 1978

THE LORD GOD MADE THEM ALL Michael Joseph 1981; Pan Books 1992; St Martin’s Press 1981

EVERY LIVING THING Michael Joseph 1992; Pan Books 1993; St Martin’s Press 1992

JAMES HERRIOT’S YORKSHIRE Michael Joseph 1979; Mermaid Books 1982; St Martin’s Press 1981

JAMES HERRIOT’S YORKSHIRE REVISITED St Martin’s Press 1999

Other omnibus editions

THE BEST OF JAMES HERRIOT Michael Joseph in association with Readers Digest Association Ltd 1982; St Martin’s Press and Reader’s Digest Association Ltd. 1998

JAMES HERRIOT’S DOG STORIES Michael Joseph 1986; Pan Books 1992; St Martin’s Press 1980

JAMES HERRIOT’S CAT STORIES Michael Joseph 1994; St Martin’s Press 1995

JAMES HERRIOT’S FAVOURITE DOG STORIES Michael Joseph 1995; St Martin’s Press 1986

JAMES HERRIOT’S YORKSHIRE STORIES Michael Joseph 1997; St Martin’s Press 1979

JAMES HERRIOT’S TREASURY FOR CHILDREN St Martin’s Press 1992

JAMES HERRIOT’S ANIMAL STORIES St Martin’s Press 1997

Books for children

MOSES THE KITTEN Michael Joseph in association with A & C Black Ltd 1984; Piper Books 1988; St Martin’s Press 1991

ONLY ONE WOOF Michael Joseph in association with A & C Black Ltd 1985; Piper Books 1988; St Martin’s Press 1985

THE CHRISTMAS DAY KITTEN Michael Joseph 1986; Piper Books 1988; St Martin’s Press 1986

BONNY’S BIG DAY Michael Joseph 1987; Piper Books 1989; St Martin’s Press 1991

BLOSSOM COMES HOME Michael Joseph 1988; Piper Books 1991; St Martin’s Press 1988

THE MARKET SQUARE DOG Michael Joseph 1989; Piper Books 1991; St Martin’s Press 1989

OSCAR: CAT ABOUT TOWN Michael Joseph 1990; Piper Books 1992; St Martin’s Press 1990

SMUDGE’S DAY OUT Michael Joseph 1991; Piper Books 1993; St Martin’s Press 1994

PROLOGUE

23 February 1995 was a beautiful day in my part of North Yorkshire. From the top of Sutton Bank on the western edge of the North York Moors National Park, it was possible to see right across the Vale of York to the Yorkshire Dales over thirty miles away. The sun shone brightly out of a cloudless winter sky and I could clearly see the familiar bulk of Pen Hill, standing majestically over the entrance to Wensleydale – the fresh whiteness of its snow-dusted slopes in vivid contrast to the dark green dale below. It was a cold, crisp, perfect winter’s day, one that normally would have had me longing to walk for mile after mile in the clean air. It was a day when I should have felt glad to be alive.

The timeless magic of the Dales has always thrilled me but, on that brilliant February day, my mood was one of emptiness as I knew that I would never again gaze across at those distant hills without a feeling of nostalgia and regret. On that day a great friend had died. His name was James Alfred Wight, a father in whose company I had spent countless happy hours. A man I shall never forget.

I was not alone in my sorrow. On that same day, others all over the world were also mourning the loss of a friend. His name was James Herriot, the country practitioner whose skill as a writer had elevated him to the status of the world’s most famous and best-loved veterinary surgeon. This incredibly successful storyteller, who sold more than 60 million books which had been translated into over twenty languages, wrote with such warmth, humour and sincerity that he was regarded as a friend by all who read him.

James Alfred Wight, the real James Herriot, was every inch the gentleman his many fans imagined him to be. He was a completely modest man who remained bemused by his success until the end of his life, yet this self-confessed ‘run of the mill vet’ is likely to be remembered for decades to come. My own memories of him, however, are not of a famous author but of a father who always put the interests of his family ahead of his own.

I think it is true to say that in everyone’s life, no matter how happy they may be, there is always a dark cloud somewhere on the horizon. My own particular cloud had been my father’s health which had given the family cause for concern for a number of years; it had assumed threatening proportions in December 1991 when I learned that he had cancer, and the final blow fell when he died just over three years later.

On 20 October 1995, some eight months after my father’s death, I found myself seated in the front row of York Minster, surely one of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world. The occasion was the Memorial Service for James Herriot, to which over 2,300 people had come to pay their last respects to a man who had given pleasure to millions. Christopher Timothy, who played the part of James Herriot in the television series All Creatures Great and Small, was reading a passage from one of my father’s best-selling books and laughter was echoing around the ancient Minster. Although it might have been unusual to hear the sound of such merriment in those magnificent but austere surroundings, I felt that James Herriot’s Memorial Service was turning out to be exactly as he would have wished. On that day, we had smiles, not tears.

Alf, as my father was always known to his friends, had always had an intense dislike of funerals, wishing with all his heart that these events could be less solemn. ‘Of course, people must be respectful in these situations,’ he once said, ‘but I feel very sorry for the family and friends on these sad occasions.’ I well remember the occasion of one funeral that he had really enjoyed. It happened many years ago when I was still at school, and was the funeral of a Mr Bartholomew, a former associate of one of my father’s great friends, Denton Pette (immortalised in the James Herriot books as Granville Bennett). ‘Bart’, a most likeable but hard-drinking veterinary surgeon, had stipulated shortly before his death that several bottles of the finest Scotch whisky should be provided for those of his colleagues who attended his funeral. My father, Denton and many others were present and afterwards they dutifully carried out Bart’s last wishes.