He had approached Donald one day and said, ‘You have never really approved of my portrayal of you, have you?’

Upon receiving the predictable response, he had countered, ‘Very well, who wouldyou have liked to have played the part?’

‘Oh, someone with manners. Someone like Rex Harrison!’ Donald had unhesitatingly replied.

‘From that moment on,’ said Tim, ‘I knew I was a dead duck!’

Robert Hardy’s feelings for his part in the series are revealed in a letter to Alf dated New Year 1978:

‘The first of our interpretations of your marvellous work goes out on Sunday 8th and I hope, and hope, you will like it … the joy that I’ve already had in being part of it all is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.’

Carol Drinkwater, who played Helen, and Peter Davison as Tristan, were ideal in their parts. Carol brought a lively sexiness to her part and Peter stepped most convincingly into the role of the likeable but feckless Tristan.

Alf thoroughly enjoyed the series. The producer, Bill Sellers, ensured that the stunning scenery was displayed at its best throughout and, in choosing the village of Askrigg in Wensleydale, he brought the fictitious town of Darrowby to life. This village was certainly in Alf’s mind when he originally set his books in the Dales back in the late 1960s; the grey buildings surrounded by the fells, with the dry-stone walls snaking down from the high ground, are straight from the pages of James Herriot’s books. After the series began – the first episode was shown on 8 January 1978 – thousands of tourists invaded Askrigg and Wensleydale. They may have been a nuisance to some, but they certainly boosted the economy of the Dales for many years.

Another feature of the series was the excellent acting from the extras. Some of the farming characters were brilliantly represented and, as Alf said, ‘could have stepped straight out of the old farm buildings that I used to know’.

Johnny Byrne, the scriptwriter, did a most skilful job in transposing the writing of James Herriot to the spoken word, and many of the scenes rang with authenticity. One of Alf’s favourite episodes concerned the vets’ uphill struggle in extracting money from some of the old farmers. He said to me, the day following the screening of the episode, ‘Did you see that one, last night? It brought back a few memories, I can tell you!’

For many, the series became addictive viewing. An extract from the Western Daily Press, dated 30 January 1978, illustrates the high regard in which it was held:

Churchgoers in the village of Lowick, Cumbria, have been blessed with the chance to worship all things bright and beautiful – and then go home to ‘All Creatures Great and Small’. For the tiny Lakeland church has been given a special dispensation to hold its Sunday evening service earlier than usual so the congregation can get home in time to watch its favourite television programme.

Since the series started, there had been a decline in the numbers attending Evensong and those that turned up complained of missing the start of the programme. Such was their popularity, forty-one episodes were shown over the following five years, and they very quickly became compulsive viewing for a huge proportion of the population, with estimates running up to 14 million viewers.

Alf’s own opinion of the television series appeared in the Yorkshire Evening Postin 1981:

Not only did it capture the essence of what I had tried to say, but also the central characters were absolutely splendid … they were us come to life. I watched it faithfully.

Human nature being what it is, I probably watched Chris Timothy a little more closely than I did the others. I always saw myself as the rather diffident figure – not exactly a ‘grey’ figure but not a particularly colourful one – caught between two flamboyant, thoroughly zestful characters. Christopher Timothy perfectly captured that air of diffidence.

James Herriot had, by the early 1980s, become not just a famous international name, he had become an industry. He had sold millions of books in hardback and many millions more in paperback. The television series had made his name a household word and was transmitted to countries all over the world – right through the 1980s with repeats into the following decade. The area of North Yorkshire that he had made famous had assumed a new name; it had become known as ‘Herriot Country’, with tourists visiting Thirsk and the Yorkshire Dales in their thousands. With his books having been translated into so many languages, fans came from all corners of the world.

Alf, while having to admit that he greatly enjoyed meeting so many people from overseas, preferred to spend most of his time away from the spotlight. Not only had he bought, in 1977, his house in Thirlby where he and Joan were secreted away from the thousands of prying eyes but, in 1978, he acquired a cottage in the village of West Scrafton – a cluster of grey stone houses and farms, lying on the southern side of Coverdale and surrounded by wild fells and moorland. It was here, where he could merge into obscurity among his beloved Yorkshire Dales, that he found total peace – where, in the morning, he would awake to a silence broken only by ‘the sound of the bleating of sheep or the cry of the curlew’.

He and Joan stayed in the West Scrafton cottage regularly, in all weathers and at all times of the year. Here, he would walk his dogs endless miles over the green tracks while drinking in the sweet, clear air of the high dales. There was nowhere he would have rather been.

It was an idyllic spot in the summer, but in the darker months of the year, West Scrafton could show a different side to its nature. One late October afternoon, he was walking his dogs along the road towards the neighbouring hamlet of Swineside. His head was lowered to protect himself from the driving rain, screaming in from the surrounding moors. On the road, he met one of the local farmers, surrounded by cows and elegantly attired in a torn mackintosh, around which was an ancient hessian sack held in place with a piece of string. The road was running with water and mud.

The farmer paused in the lee of one of the stone buildings before raising his weather-beaten face to Alf. He shouted above the noise of the wind. ‘Afternoon, Mr Wight!’

‘It’s not much of a day!’ yelled Alf in response.

‘Nay, you’re right!’ continued the farmer, looking around him at the desolate scene. ‘You’re ’avin’ a bit o’ holiday up ’ere, eh?’

‘Yes, just having a nice break from the practice.’

The farmer scrutinised the damp figure before him. Everyone in the village knew who he was; they all knew he had the means to spend his holidays on sun-drenched beaches in exotic locations. The farmer had spent almost his entire life working in the village, and a hard life it had been. Many people are entranced by the beautiful scenery of the Yorkshire Dales, but those who try to make a living out of the place can sometimes take a different view.

The farmer looked again at the rippling puddles in the road, the rapidly darkening sky and the filthy wet dogs standing expectantly at Alf’s feet. He looked him steadily in the face before turning to set off after the mass of cows. A puzzled look passed over his features as he paused for a final word. ‘Why der yer come ’ ere?’

Whilst not really enjoying the massive publicity that surrounded him, Alf was, in fact, making matters worse for himself; he was still seated in front of the television with his typewriter. He did it for neither fame nor fortune; he simply loved writing. With lists of ‘headings’ secreted away in the drawers of his desk, there was still plenty of material.

Between the years of 1978 and 1981, two more books appeared. One of these was to sell more copies in hardback than any of his previous six and was largely responsible for the never-ending coachloads of tourists pouring into his part of England. This book – one that he almost never wrote – was destined to become his greatest best-seller. It was called James Herriot’s Yorkshire.