THE parkin pig is an elusive character, often found hiding in hedgerows of toffee, rolling in golden syrup or sticking its snout into a forest of ginger and is perhaps no match for the better-known gingerbread man!

For me he is always closely linked to Guy Fawkes and Bonfire Night on November 5. I have many fond memories of plot night and Halloween – making turnip lanterns, trick or treating on mischief night, knocking on peoples doors and running away.

There was also "proggin", where we hunted and scavenged for bits of wood with dad's axe, competing to build the biggest bonfire in the neighbourhood, and guarding our bonfire with our lives on November 4 so rival gangs would not set fire to it.

The guy was always a comical thing, stuffed with saved Keighley News papers and our dad's cast offs.

I remember pushing the effigy around the streets in a wheelbarrow, collecting coppers door-to-door to buy fireworks like Catherine Wheels, Roman Candles, Bangers and Chinese Crackers.

I always loved the sparklers the best, trying to write my name in mid-air before the image faded. When the big day finally arrived we waited patiently for it to become dark, ("Can we light the bonfire now dad?")

It was always dad's job to light the fire with a two-gallon petrol drum in hand. We ate pork pies steaming with mushy peas and mint sauce followed by baked jacket potatoes roasted in the embers of the dying fire.

This was followed by mum's special parkin pigs and granny's gooey rib-sticking parkin, both eaten around the warming fire to take away the autumnal chill.

The next day we were always up at the crack of dawn looking out of our bedroom window for any sign of smoke, before getting our wellies on and kicking the bonfire to try and raise a spark.

The parkin pig is traditional and local to us Keighley folks. He falls within the Leeds, Bradford and Halifax triangle of Yorkshire where he originated generations ago.

Back then the rich folk had their bonfires and ate spit boar, while the poor had biscuit in the shape of a pig. God help anyone with the name "parkin", as they were always taunted in the school playground! The parkin pig has been granted special name protected status from the EU commissioners which means this unique delicacy can only be made in Yorkshire and if produced outside of Yorkshire it will have to be labelled ''parkin-style pig".

Us Yorkshire tykes will not be fobbed off with second best...

The little piggy has to be firm and crunchy without being too brittle when baked and eaten before he goes to market.

He should be made from the best, locally sourced ingredients with a recognisable pig-like profile, snout and pointed ears.

Above all, the eyes should be made from the sweetest currants you can find. Funny how customs come and go. I've now inherited a parkin pig cutter, and i will definitely continue the tradition of this forgotten Yorkshire cuisine before the ever-popular Peppa Pig takes his place and he vanishes forever!