The town's fame has long spread beyond its own valley walls.

After all, it's the lesbian capital of the north (according to Bernard Ingham). And the fourth funkiest destination in the world (in 2004). And (almost) the birthplace of Ted Hughes. And (nearly) the resting place of Sylvia Plath. And an eco hotspot that's (sort of) banned plastic bags.

That's Hebden Bridge. Famous in a fairytale kind of way.

But, then, that's as good as any way.

Nothing of substance was ever built on anything but style.

Half truths lose the half if they're repeated enough. Myths become legends become history.

Hebden Bridge is famous and – however that is – it's a good thing for a small market town to be. Especially one with a service and tourist-based economy. Fame buys the kind of PR money can't. It creates slogans advertising execs couldn't.

"Hebden Bridge?" old friends ask. "The place where the hippies live?"

Well, yeah...sort of.

But then I guess that's better than answering questions about Halifax.

"The place where the Halifax is based?"

Well, yeah...sort of.

Hebden Bridge, though, it's not perfect – there's anti social behaviour, no parking and Bernard Ingham – but it's never predictable.

Not exactly any of the things claimed – but a little bit of them all.

It's all right.

Would have been better, mind, if they'd built them wonky homes.

A (semi) radical development for a (semi) radical place.

But then maybe that was part of the problem. The trouble with having a radical past is people don't half get conservative trying to protect it.

It's fairly clear, though.

Hebden Bridge needs more parking if it's going to continue to thrive. The wonky homes scheme – an innovative development of apartments and shops by a local firm – would have provided that, while also transforming a vast swathe of wasted land into something befitting the town's reputation.

Too big, the objectors said. But barely any bigger than the factory next door and dwarfed by the homes on the hills that wall the town.

Too out of place? Made from Yorkshire stone and glass to match half the buildings in the valley. And with uber-green credentials.

Too much disruption? Maybe, some – but if you ban all disruption you ban the town ever developing again. And that would mean there'd never be any new outsiders coming to live in the town. Ah...

Nice development, they said, wrong place. Which really is the quintessential nimby argument.

On the contrary, it was exactly the right place. "The place where all the radicals moved?" old friends ask. The place where Bernard Ingham was born, I answer.