Pete Hartley: sometime dramaturg, perennial scribbler
Last September, just before the Harris Museum in Preston closed for three years for renovations, I slipped in for a private rendezvous with a woman with whom I have secretly communed for many years. She never looks a day older. She says nothing, but imparts a great deal. I can't see her any more, and … Continue reading Psyche Gate
Pregnancy is perpetual. There are countless births every millisecond. The Earth is always with child. Our ground is antenatal again. The unspoken garden draws breath to speak some more. Imbolc Imbolc was an important celebration in ancient times. It was originally a pagan festival in honour of the goddess Brigid. She is associated with fertility, … Continue reading Imbolc
An appreciation of: Preston Catholic College The Last Intake 1977-1982, The End of an Era by Jim Clune and Adrian Gawain Jones with the Old Boys of '77. Plus an added personal perspective.
Spend some time at one of the lesser-known and more laid-back delights of Lancashire.
The memoir of a mill worker who wove his dreams into reality, 1902 - 1934.
As filmed by a man with eight legs I have to confess it was a stalking. I looked her up on Facebook and drove across the moors to where I’d worked out she would be. Rawtenstall. I parked the car and unleashed my camera. I was by myself but not alone. My viewfinder located lusty … Continue reading The Union of South Africa and East Lancashire
There is a quiet thunder where the Hodder and Ribble ram. You feel it more than hear it. There’s a constant wet tumbling, but also a silent thudding, sensed more than detected. It was the only place to go to determine what should be done.
Painted by Turner One drawback of my father’s occupation as a self-employed milk deliveryman was that we never went on holiday in a conventional sense. A compensatory benefit was that, because he finished his round by about one p.m., half-day trips were possible whenever the weather was benevolent. He’d give me the choice: we could … Continue reading Edisford Bridge
Preston, and scores of other Lancashire towns, prospered exponentially from the first wave of the Industrial Revolution. Their streets were paved with gold (for a few) because their sheets were plied with cotton. The cotton was cheap because the labourers who produced it were not paid. They were purchased. How should we declare our debt and pay our dues?
A ghost story for Christmas The bike growled as if in warning as he released his grip on the throttle. He braked gently expecting ice on the high moorland road. Freezing fog that night, the weatherman had said, and fog there was, and Mike was too wise to doubt the other part of the prophesy. … Continue reading Pillion
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