Orbit again

For part 1, see here

The main justification for creating the “Orbital” was as a response to concerns that the Royal Preston Hospital was too out of the way, particularly as getting there required changing at least once (at that recently Grade II Listed building I don’t talk about very much any more). The route of the “Orbital” (numbered 88A for the anti-clockwise service, 88C for clockwise) is predominately through built-up housing estates and the suburban outcrops, and for those on the fringes, it does provide convenience of a sort..
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In the last post, I stopped approximately halfway through the route, the RPH itself. Set in the low reaches of Fulwood’s sprawl, the Hospital is an accidental celebration of architectural lowlights from the 1980s onwards, it having been opened in 1983. Its entrance has developed, if that’s the right word, into a congested confluence of traffic, bus stops, ambulance bays and higgledy-piggledy car park. Safe? Possibly not. To be resolved shortly? Heck no.

Preston College is nearby (now rebranded as Preston’s College, if anybody fancies writing 1,000 words on that sort of thing). The service of choice for students leaving PC in either direction is the dedicated hospital number 19, which diverts somewhat from the “Orbital” route but lessens the case for having the anti-clockwise service bobbling around. I can’t possibly snap a queue of young people at a bus-stop, so I scurry on by (although, sidebar note: if you like to know this sort of thing, it seems lads are still perfectly fine with looking like this, so I clearly don’t know anything about society.)

I am told that, when very drunk at a bar in Manchester recently, I began banging on about Preston Bus’ number 23 service with ASDA on its display screen, and that makes me want to go out and punch a cow. Or never drink again. Anyway it exists and I use it for ice-breaking anecdotes so that’s me for you. The 23 and 88s follow each other through Sherwood, newbuild estate with rabbit-warren roads, all faux-red brick and pampas grass and what-have-you. The passengers for this part of the route are a quiet and polite bunch; three young folk wearing various degrees of fashion leave at an unremarkable part of the vast estate of businesses and offices that curl around the M6 motorway, including the HQ of the Lancashire Evening Post.  What that newspaper doesn’t know about chip pan fires, car boot sales and failed planning permissions is nobody’s business.

ASDA is the final big landmark on the route, a vast supermarket bounded by car parking on every corner. Everybody alights, so I do too, as it’s better to be considered strange than completely off-the-tree. Here is where the 23 also terminates, taking on board frazzled looking shoppers. A redundant ‘Real Time’ display stands impotent beside the three shelters for the 23 the two “Orbit”s, as they do alongside numerous bus-shelters across the city. Having persuaded bus companies to sign up to real-time displays, Lancs CC needed to find cost cutting somewhere, so off they went switching them all off, and off they have remained ever since. 20131011_170555

The next stage is the most convoluted, taking in what left over bits of the city exist between ASDA and the Ribble Valley. This begins with the straight path through well-to-do suburbia, built to fill in the gaps Fulwood needed to find during the housing boom. Homes on Squires Wood, one of the rabbit warrens passed on the way, will set you back between £142,000 and ‘offers over’ £155,000. From here it’s over the M6 and faraway, or at least cutting through the many adverts for the single Starbucks Drive-Thru {{sic}} that cannot, surely, attract that much passing trade. This could be just more misunderstanding of modern society on my part of course.

Over the M6 we go again into the Ribbleton citadel. Homes on Ribbleton Avenue are currently on sale for £180k (3 bed semi) and £239,500 (4 bed detached),  The “Orbital” has to take a detour away from the leafier bits as it takes in the post-war estate of Brookfield, where the streets are set out in elongated rectangles with the familiar industrial brown-brick of the time.

The word “Deepdale” is perhaps best known for being the home of Preston North End, where football was first placed in 1878. Insert wags suggesting the food/seating/team have not improved since then here. Deepdale is amongst the most economically challenged parts of the region, not just Preston, ranking highly in the deprivation statistics. Additionally it has one of the highest numbers of Muslim residents in the city, over 3,200 at the 2011 census. Deepdale Road is one of Preston’s most congested, particularly on match days, bringing to a standstill not just the road itself but the grid-pattern terraces to the west (named St George’s Road, St Cuthbert’s Road, St Matthew’s, St Martin’s, St Anne’s and so on) and to the east (names Linnet Street, Goldfinch Street, Falcon, Dove and so on and so on).

A smattering of coat and hat wearing people remain on the bus for the final stretch, some tapping away at their smartphones. This journey has taken me many hours, as I’ve nipped on and off, but for £3.30 it should take the average normal person who wants to stay on the same bus for no reason around 70 minutes. It may serve little tiny purposes for specific passengers, rather than being the Hospital runner it was planned to be, but it is clearly well used and popular. At the bus station, where the service runs around the enforced H&S fencing and one-way-system, passengers could even take advantage of the original intention for the building and walk straight over to a regional or national service without breaking sweat. But it seems everyone has a city centre place to go to, and plod away in the damp to get there. As do I, and this is where the journey ends.

The 88A and 88C, alongside numerous other services, travel across the former Preston to Longridge railway, about which you can read more here via BlogPreston.

On the Orbital (1)

Launched in the early 2000s as a response (partially) to concerns that the Royal Preston Hospital was too difficult to visit for people in the outer suburbs, the Preston Bus’ “Orbital” is formed by buses travelling either clockwise or anti-clockwise through the city and into the outposts.and fringes. It is popular, although specific passenger numbers are not easy to confirm.

Whilst succeeding in linking some parts of Preston with some other parts; I don’t think the “Orbital” has quite mastered  convincing people of the benefits of a journey which could last over 40 or 50 minutes (the entire loop can take ninety) and cost £3.30 if buying an all-day ticket, as Hospital visitors may find necessary to do. Logic dictates that people living on the anti-clockwise route can get to the Hospital far quicker, and far less expensively, by taking the dedicated Hospital service. Nonetheless, the “Orbital” has patched over gaps in the original services to the northern communities, particularly the new-build estates encroaching into the rurals and greenbelt, turning into a regular commuter service for some.

Taking my lead from such blogs as Diamond Geezer and London Buses:One At A Time, I chose to spend an early Friday afternoon taking the “Orbital” on its clockwise route. Unlike those blogs however, I broke up the journey in three places – I trust that one of these being for the purchase of a Morrison’s salad bar selection is considered both valid and not an “accidental Partridge.”

I don’t think anything else has to be said about THAT BUILDING other than to confirm that, yes, it has been awarded Grade II Listed Status, and that beauty is 20131011_144528in the eye of the geek (or, to quote the Leader of Preston Council, the nerdy sociopath).

Preston Bus Station is the start and end of the “Orbit”, for both clockwise and anti-clockwise services. They run very regularly, and one follows the other, to allow for the limited number of actual buses to maintain the service even when rush hour and Preston’s notoriously cramped roads conspire against them. One complete loop probably could cost less than £3.30, but my decision to break up the journeys into chunks meant there was little choice but to pay the full amount for what is a “hop on, hop off” ticket.
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From the building of which I will no longer speak (….for now) the clockwise 88C makes its way into the city centre towards the Docks.

This first jaunt should give an adequate indication of the myriad problems of travelling through Preston – stop/start, juddery, slow, plagued by congestion, traffic lights and inadequate road layout. Praise be to the heavens, mind, for something is in place to be done! Whether this will work is a point most moot, however, and critics and cynics alike consider the proposals to be inherently flawed. Shared space can work, it has been proven to do so. Not perhaps as Lancs CC envisage, particularly as they foresee each and every existing bus stop congregated outside the railway station, which I see as being just asking for trouble. But what, as so many people are wont to ask, do I know.

Two Mormons(es?) on this bus, incidentally, chose not to use their audience for rapid-fire conversion techniques. One actually fell asleep, his head slowly, slowly dropping down as the rest of us (teenage girl texting her driving instructor, two Cissie and Ada types gossiping, two others keeping themselves to themselves) bobbed about. The Mormons left only five or so minutes later (the fast asleep one waking up as a puppy might, head flicking from window to window in momentary confusion) and by the entrance to the Docks, every seat was taken.

Preston Docks was not future-proofed when it was regenerated for what was, in the 1980s at least, the brave new future of shopping and living. The only road into the Docks sucks everything onto it, cars often  backed up for a mile or longer. There are no passing points along the entire site and no public crossings, for that matter, which forces anyone from child to pensioner to play chicken at day and night. Solutions for either problem? Nothing.

One Morrisions salad later (too few slices of beetroot, too much potato) I wander to Ashton Park, where many of the trees stand taller, prouder and fatter than they were when I was a lad, throwing conkers into the road and whatever else passed for high jinks in my day. The “Orbital” from here takes in the first of the major residential parts, that of Ashton and then Larches, the latter showing all the signs of typical post-war sprawl. This 88c is standing-room only, school children and families at the back, elderly couples up front, and love’s young dream somewhere in the middle.

We pass under the Blackpool railway, one-time site of Lea Road train station. Beeching would say, I assume, that this specific example of bustitution proves his theory right, although, of course, he was not blame for that particular station closing.

Cottam’s well to do and getting by home-owners left for their chocolate box houses with earphones and page-turners close to hand. The change at Cottam has been rapid and remarkable – from grass to garages, from fields to crunchy-gravel driveways, and all within the most boom of all boom times in the British economy. From here the service runs through the comfort of Cadley, all bungalows and two-ups and the church of St Anthony of Padua. This is Fulwood, which strangers can get to by travelling up the A6 and turning left when they feel house prices shooting up. By now I was travelling almost alone, with three gossips and a headphone-guy for company. We passed Fulwood Academy, newly renamed and entirely rebuilt, looking like an office for call-centres and companies that offer ‘solutions’, all curved walls, spot lighting and silver-grey tinted windows.

From here the journey reaches, by and large, its half way point. And so, I suppose, should this post.

“Preston Junction”

Early maps of the railways around Preston appear to borrow from primitive drawings of the human circulatory system.Connecting nearby towns with the Industrial powerhouse of the Red Rose County was achieved by way of covering almost every available strip of land with track, ostensibly a result of the numerous rival rail companies battling for the right to serve Preston on their own.

The twisting turning trails of that early map have largely disappeared. Preston was to suffer from consolidation many years before the “Beeching Axe”, with financial pressures crippling early ventures from the start. One such line to suffer from economic hardship decades before Beeching’s report was the direct line to Southport, one I have walked in a two part series elsewhere on this blog. You can find the walk to Walmer Bridge here and the attempted walk from Southport here. (I say “attempted”, it was pretty much successful, just not ending where or when it should.)

Anyhoo, by far the most distinctive part of that early map is the two “pinches” allowing for fairly easy interchange between tracks to the south of the River Ribble. Those form part of the “Preston Junction”, a largely important but now quite forgotten piece of rail infrastructure. Forgive me if any of the images in this post look familiar – every last square inch of the former “Preston Junction” line and its connecting off-shoots have been all but obliterated. What’s left behind – mile after mile of cycle routes and pathways – resemble copy-and-paste levels in cheap computer games, each stretch of tree/weed/mud lined route looking just like the other.

It wouldn’t be in character for me not to try make senseof it all, though, so here goes.

How "Preston Junction" should be advertised....

How “Preston Junction” should be advertised….

And how it really looks...

And how it really looks…

There is no single place at which to start the “Preston Junction ” walk, so maybe I should start in the middle. The complex network of lines can be traced back to just one – the Blackburn-Preston-Farington (Leyland) route constructed in 1846. This would ultimately be consumed into the East Lancashire Railway network that incorporated every route from Liverpool and Ormskirk in the south to the Bury, Burnley and Rawtenstall in the east.

Very little of the Preston elements of this railway remains, as can be seen from the aerial shots on Google Maps, showing the distinctive curves and junctions as tree-lined pathways. The middle of all this for my purposes is the intersection of the railway with the Lancaster Canal Tramroad, remnants of which can be seen in the City Centre itself [anyone who has used the underground subway to the Fishergate Car Park should notice the distinctive brickwork around them; that’ll be Tram Road history,that be.)

Old Tram Road looking towards the 'intersection'

Old Tram Road looking towards the ‘intersection’

Leaving the Tram Route to take its way through the Carrwood Road estate, the right-hand path is the former rail route to Bamber Bridge, with clues to the former use of the path now reduced to rare curiosities such as this. A further three or so minutes along takes you to the Wateringpool Lane “Gas Works Bridge”, which remains in very good nick.

Under the Bridge...

Under the Bridge…

From here it’s another yomp along the path, bordered on both sides by bushes and over-grown greenery. The “Nature Reserve” element of the “Preston Junction Nature Reserve” really is advertising speak for “we’ve not cut back anything leafy or green for twenty-odd years”

It’s certainly the case that this is not so much picturesque as functional

Really, really functional.

Todd Lane/Preston Junction

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This National Cycle Network marker (sounds much better than “National cycle-path”, as I though it was, suggesting a country-wide network of lunatics roaming the streets) is the only plaque/sign/monument to Todd Lane railway station. On the approach to the road itself there are no clues to the former platforms, sidings, track alignment, nothing. Just lots of overgrown “nature reserve” plants and weeds.

To break up the mass/mesh of nature gone back to…nature…there’s a brook of some sort hidden underneath more overgrown plantation.

That word “junction” in “Preston Junction” indicates that something other than a direct route to Bamber Bridge must have been offered by Todd Lane. That something is the curved line through to Lostock Hall, visible on Google Maps. That line can be walked from a small, barely visible, off-shoot to the endless run of pathway-through-greenery. And there’s at least one thing of curiosity to be found along here…

Lostock Hall curve

From the Brownedge Lane bridge, the spur to Todd Lane looks impassable. Not so. The route is clearly underused (if indeed it’s used at all, even with a few clues of human/teenage use as a ground to dump bottles and cans, there was very scant evidence of it being popular). 20130718_145857 20130718_145949

I’m not going to claim knowledge about what exactly this is – a boundary marker of some sort? Or remains of original track? Answers please.

This route takes only a few minutes, is very uneven underfoot – no bland tarmac here, or indeed for that matter anything, just ballast and stones and weeds and mysterious parallel lines.

The walk from this curve to Bamber Bridge is unremarkable, and not just because the destination itself is, well, just that. The route comes to a sudden stop because of the A6 London Way, with the original alignment of the railway surviving as the B5257 roundabout slip-road. Don’t say things get boring around here, folks.

The view from Bamber Bridge station, had I taken it, would have shown where the two parts joined together. The Google Maps friend is back again, as it shows how the Brownedge Road part meets the scrapped railway lines overlooking Irongate, home to Bamber Bridge FC.

In summary then, the route from Preston to Bamber Bridge along Todd Lane has almost no indications of its former route, other than the tucked-away Lostock Hall pathway.

West Lancashire

Now for some cross-blog pollination. The West Lancashire line from Preston to Southport is one I’ve walked and written about before. Here’s how to get from there (ish) to Preston Junction (more or less).

The two junctions at east and west – I suppose “Lancashire Bra Straps” is a bit tasteless but you get the idea – represent the connections needed to link towns to the south of Preston without going over the Ribble and into the town’s central station. Looking at traffic congestion on the roads, let alone the WCML today, it’s sad that these lines were disposed of so easily.

The walk along these curves and junctions begins with a walk towards the grand (if now sadly tumble-down) railway bridge over the Ribble. Lancashire County Council has undertaken a massive regeneration scheme around this bridge, converting the overgrown and abandoned trackbed into a cyclepath, bringing to an end Vicar’s Bridge in the process. Not only has this opened up the path (and removed in situ track), it’s reduced by a factor of hypergazillion the number of dodgy men rubbing themselves against oak trees. Win-win.

This shouldn’t shock you, but crossing the bridge takes you to another nondescript tarmac’d path. At least along this part of the walk, there’s a couple of historic artifacts still in place.

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And that’s it, because to follow the curve around towards Penwortham, it’s back to nondescript tarmac. The “Penwortham Spur”, if that’s the formal name is marked by these bizarre pieces of public art. I’ve no idea what they represent.

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These bendy-metal-eye stalks turn up at the end of the junction, which is otherwise just another stretch of…you guessed it..

The walk to Penwortham uncovers a piece of railway infrastructure – or so I think – on the track which leads onto Middleforth Green, a piece of suburbia on the way to Lostock Hall. (All roads lead to Lostock Hall, you notice). As you can see from the map, the two junctions/interchanges have bridges ‘in situ’, both of which do their best to appear bleak and imposing even at noon.

I honestly don't know.

I honestly don’t know.

There are two final jigsaw pieces to the “Preston Junction” puzzle; the part which connects these two sweeping and swirling rail-lines to the West Lancashire line to Southport (which I followed), and the line attaching Croston to Lostock Hall just south of Longton (which I did not).

The missing segment through Penwortham is now a housing development, and a typical example of the bland rabbit warren estate which is squeezed into any available space. The street doesn’t even have a name related to the former use of the alignment on which it now rests, which seems an opportunity lost.

Mmm, just reach out and touch it

Mmm, just reach out and touch it

Can't get enough of bland paths

Can’t get enough of bland paths

So this is where the railway would have taken passengers to or from Southport/Blackburn, with its bland new build development name.

The road looks out onto very familiar looking brickwork which also provides a great clue to just how substantial the railway infrastructure was before it was closed down. That’s one heck of a size.

The Park Road estate rests in the middle of the “Penwortham Triangle”, where my previous walk began on the opposite side.  The name “Penwortham Triangle” has an echo where the bland pathways are marked by bendy-freaky-metal-glass-alien-art, namely “Whitehouse Triangle” on the maps of the time. You should be able to see that map on the Google image above.

With numerous generations passed since any trains did, it’s little surprise that the conversion of rail to dog walker paradise has stripped so much land of so much history. The lack of many clues to the past beyond aerial photographs reflects the extent to which the past has been truly left behind, leaving only bridges and brick-work as hints to the history and heritage of Lancashire. I would recommend having a mooch around these parts whilst the weather stays good – maybe you could tell me what the modern art things are supposed to represent?

Lea Road – a forgotten station

As eager as I am to blame one man and one man alone for ruining British railways, the case of Lea Road in Preston has no connection to him. For once.

“The Civil Parish of Lea and Cottam” is the long-winded formal way of referring to the north-west parts of the city of Preston. The “Lea” bit is really two communities, one of your actual semi-rural villages right up against the city border, and a compact suburban sprawl. “Cottam” really was one of those “in my day, all this were fields” type of places, where the fields are now mere fringes for numerous new-build estates all constructed to look like glossy-magazine spreads. In an act of daft marketing brainfarts, which blights every new-build estate, the contrived look of a rural village is somewhat ruined by the ever decreasing amount of untouched rural surroundings caused by….new-build developments.

Maybe it’s just me.  I’ve seen new-build apartments built with bricked-up windows and pretend delivery doors five floors up, just to give the impression to those paying over £100,000 for their shiny new IKEA playground it’s 17th century olde England. Baffled, I am.

Anyhoo, splitting Lea from Cottam, broadly speaking, are the Preston-Blackpool train line and the Lancaster canal. It’s typical of this country that it’s the latter which is more likely to take local people into Preston.

“Lea Road” runs from the main Blackpool Road in the south to Cottam in the north, running through a patch of well-to-do houses with crunchy gravel gardens and the like, before opening out to a field on one side and UCLAN’s recommissioned Westleigh House on the other. From here the pavement vanishes, homes become more stone than brick, and the distinct waft of a real life, actual working farm flicks over the humped canal bridge. This is the distinct boundary between Preston and….well, not Fulwood, so “not Preston”, where rural central Lancashire penetrates Preston’s solid urban core.

OS Map (Copyright to them) of Lea Road Station

OS Map (Copyright to them) of Lea Road Station

It’s about half-way along, just off a 90s housing boom estate running off Summer Trees Avenue, where the soon to be electrified Preston-Blackpool railway cuts its way through. Alas the nearby pub, latterly known as the Cotty Brook, has been closed for what appears to be a considerable amount of time, the nearside nettles and bracken encroaching in the way which proves the old maxim, “Nature always wins.”

There’s not much at ground level to show where Lea Road station used to be, particularly the old signal box or even so much of an entrance. The “Ashton On Ribble” website provides a snapshot of how it looked from the top and via the invaluable Preston Digital Archive there’s an aerial photograph taken from MARIO that gives some indication of how much the area has changed. The land to the left is still there (albeit FAR messier and over-grown), whilst to the right housing and business units have been built in recent years.

I made my jaunt to Lea Road on an overcast Sunday afternoon, which necessitated meandering through the overgrown and muddy sort-of-not-quite path through Haslam Park, a kind of sedate adventure playground for dog-walkers which uniquely amongst Preston’s parks hasn’t lost (much) of its charm. I found my way to the Millennium Canal Link “thing”, a project infamous for the construction and swift removal of “the Piddler in the River”, a statue ultimately lost for good at the expense of £25,000. That’s a lot for wood nobody thought checking for, say, water damage or, you know, going rotten. AS WOOD TENDS TO DO.

In all truth and honesty, the station probably wouldn’t have survived long after the War which followed its initial closure, particularly as Beeching would have noticed how little housing or even schools existed in walking distance, never mind driving, at the time of the ‘reshaping’ report. Added to that, it would be almost impossible to construct health-and-safety satisfying ramps and what-not today in such a cramped, tight space.

Almost all signs of the station have been long lost. The archways underneath the lines are bricked up, with REDUNDANT SPAN painted in white capitals. One long-lost plan for the station was an impressively ambitious project to link the Blackpool line with the West Coast Main Line at Broughton/Fulwood, enabling the under-strain Preston station to lose some of its stresses. A great “what if” opens up in the mind, as Lea Road would have almost certainly given Beeching something to think about if Blackpool – Scotland traffic justified the lack of construction opportunities around the expanded line.All which remains now are the bricked up arches, suggesting show much about its past whilst showing little.

Unlike in the days of my youth, it’s impossible to walk beside the track itself. (No, really, back in High School, it was quite the done thing to sit around the Blackpool line and…never mind. NOBODY DIED.)  Now there’s a metal fence with the usual warning signs, and a good set of spider webs set for the summer.

Thanks in part to BNFL Springfields (…no, really), the neighbouring Salwick station remains open, for around four trains a day, none on weekends. Alas the fortune was not smiling at Lea Road, for whom the 1930s were not sympathetic or full of promise enough to persuade powers that be to hold on.

By way of a coda, both Lancashire County Council  and Preston City Council support the construction of a new station at Cottam, although the current plans are sketchy at best (literally, one could say, as it depends on the construction of a “Preston Distributor Road” from two points yet to be decided). At least it’s something, albeit 20-odd years out of date, and a rare sign of positive attitudes towards public transport in a city with very little such evidence hitherto.

Advising long lost or forgotten engineers....

Advising long lost or forgotten engineers….

One for the entrance, one reportedly just in case of the Broughton extension

One for the entrance, one reportedly just in case of the Broughton extension

In my day, we'd sit around alongside this. INNOCENT TIMES

In my day, we’d sit around alongside this. INNOCENT TIMES

One way up

The slope on the left now used by engineers

The slope on the left now used by engineers

....there's at least a bus service. The Orbit takes about 3 hours to crawl around the outskirts

….there’s at least a bus service. The Orbit takes about 3 hours to crawl around the outskirts

Preston needs changing to stay the same…

Preston City Councillor Bill Shannon, (LibDem, Ingol), has set out why he believes the city council requires serious reform if it is to survive in the long-term. In short, Cllr. Shannon believes Preston can no longer remain as a mid-sized unit on the banks of the River Ribble, constrained by the compromise boundaries drawn around it forty-ish years ago.

Whilst disagreeing with Cllr. Shannon on certain subjects I won’t go into here, he’s absolutely right about the future of our city. For Preston to survive, it needs to change, and that means a slow but sure process of amalgamating services as a precursor to full merger with neighbouring administrations.

The fix-and-fudge of local government reform generations ago has left its mark across the country, particularly England where there’s been less change than in either Scotland or Wales. Almost all the local authorities created in the 1970s as a compromise position to the contentious Redcliffe-Maud report remain in place today, their sizes and shapes unmoved despite mammoth changes in population, work-load and responsibilities, employment and the like.

Nobody in Manchester, for example, can fully explain why the council area is such an elongated blob. Of course cynics can suggest plenty of reasons – it kept out largely Tory-leaning bits in Trafford and the semi-rural north, it ensured the Airport and its growth area had to use the “Manchester” name, and so on. Generations away from the map redrawing, the reality on the ground is a population almost unrelated to the official demarcation lines.

Preston, like Manchester, is a city constrained by the flicks of an administrator’s pencil. The city doesn’t stop at the Ribble; people who live to the south are no less “Prestonian”, or less likely to work in Preston, on the grounds of living on the opposite side of an arbitrary border.  The reality of life in this part of Lancashire has seen Preston grow in stature and relevance, and all within the lines of a borough decided upon on a coin-toss in the 1970s.

The financial consequence for the city and its people is profound and dangerous. The only way to safeguard the integrity of Preston, and to ensure the financial security for the services provided for people who live here, is to be bold on the manner in which administrations are formed.

Cllr. Shannon builds a two-step process. Initially councils need to share services, cutting back on duplication which builds up in the everyday processes of providing day-to-day services. As Preston is a two-tier city, served by 57 city councillors and ten County Councillors, there’s plenty of duplication amongst the administrative scaffolding around the representative buildings housed here. Numerous towns and cities across the country are dealing with the Government’s budget slashing by sharing services, and this process can only continue.

The next step, hinted at in Cllr. Shannon’s statement, is a full merger with neighbouring authorities, and is something I’ve always supported. It’s not enough for back-room staff in Preston to work alongside those in the Boroughs of Fylde and South Ribble. Preston is an economic possibility stifled by its status, locked in by suspicious and cynical council leaders in neighbouring towns.

The modern economic reality is too serious for such parochialism. Our city boundaries need to respect that work, study and play in this part of Central Lancashire is no longer respectful of invisible lines drawn on across rivers and along roads. There’s no legitimate reason for South Ribble, Chorley or Fylde being separate when hundreds of thousands of residents already treat Preston as their “hub” for employment, university or college study, or social/piss-up outpost. There’s no legitimate reason why, having cooperated in reducing costs by merging backroom jobs, local councils can’t take the natural step to amalgamate.

My principle is “sphere of influence”. If you live in Tarleton, you’re within the Southport “sphere of influence”, only to be denied by the decision to create Sefton in the 1970s. Preston suffers the same – thousands of potential workers, students, and wealth creators living in Bamber Bridge, Leyland, Chorley, Kirkham, Lytham, all denied by an arbitrary line on a map.

Let’s respect opportunity more than geography. I’ve no time for the types in historic county organisations who wish to reclaim parts of the world which have no existed in forty or more years. I don’t accept calls to “bring back” such places as Middlesex or Westmorland, no more than I do any request to scrap decimal currency.

There’s far too much broken with our democracy – the voting systems at local councils are as close to “corrupt” as you can get, and Scotland is proof of how to resolve that simply by converting to the STV voting system. One other issue is the size and composition of the councils at this level – outdated boundaries drawn for partisan reasons. Cllr. Shannon says we need the “necessary courage” to create a new council, what would inevitably be called “Greater Preston”. I agree with him.

“Preston” was once over  half the size it is now, growing in size only when the separate borough of Fulwood was added in the 1970s. Now the next step has to be taken, not just to correct the problems of Prestonians living far beyond official borders, but to ensure the financial security of Lancashire’s true heart. Anything else is not an option – staying still won’t mean staying the same.

Walking West Lancs (Part 1)

Preston and Southport are approximately 16 miles apart, a greater distance than the width of Greater Manchester at its widest point, so of course transport between the two is only marginally better than that which exists between Kirkwall and Cowes. Most folk venture along the A59, which gets blocked around Penwortham for the school run and continues as Lancashire’s longest traffic-jam until the 5pm commute chugs along in the opposite direction.

Between the two used to run the West Lancashire railway, connecting an outer bit of the latter with an outer bit of the former. Most Prestonians probably don’t realise that the West Lancashire railway ran not to the main railway station on Butler Street, but to a smaller station at the bottom of Fishergate Hill.

This smaller station was closed off to passengers in the year 1900, though it was only until Guild Year 1972 when the station was finally abandoned for all uses, being demolished four years later. Services from Southport to Preston via the West Lancashire Line were cut in 1964, with the Beeching Axe immediately followed by the track, bridges, and station buildings demolished before the year was out. It was this search for what infrastructure might remain forty-eight years after closure which persuaded me to take a walk along the route

Not only did my shoes take a bashing, it became very clear, very quickly, that the intervening 48 years have not been kind to any signs of what might have once carried passengers and food across the Lancashire Marsh Towns. My trusty well-thumbed road atlas proved to be only half-way decent to getting the best out of the walk, and in any case the route has long since been taken over by housing, farmers and business-parks, so walking the exact route was a non-starter. My aim, therefore, was to venture as close to the line as possible to find the location of each West Lancashire Station.

(An aim which caused a friend and his father to double, triple and quadruple check that I hadn’t gone completely off my trolley)

The two parts of the journey divide the walk into halves – Preston to the River Douglas, and then the Douglas to Southport.

Preston (Fishergate Hill)

No trains leaving here


Now a GP surgery – and one which was under threat from closure – the site of Preston’s short-lived West Lancashire railway station shows no indication of its former life. Indeed whilst Google Maps is pretty good at showing the footprint of former industry there’s not much on the ground to indicate where the railway used to run.

The homes around this part of Preston are a mix of Victorian and Georgian houses of considerable size and value, some of which are owned by families whilst others have been converted for houseshares and students. There’s a new-build apartment development here now, too, minimalist apartments with thin walls and external letter boxes as per. Separating Broadgate from Riverside is dog-walking greenery which was once the West Lancs line, though its distinctive shape can only be appreciated as such from the air; at street level it’s two barely covered footpaths twisting and turning through trees allowed to grow where the railway used to be. Follow the line across the Ribble and you’ll see the distinctive stone columns which used to carry the line to Penwortham. This leads across to “The Penwortham Triangle”, now partly converted as a cycle-path and “natural history trail” (“we’ve neglected this for years and now claim the weeds, wildflowers and damaged seating offer a rustic charm”). As you might expect, the trackbed has been reclaimed by nature in all its forms – trees of various shapes, widths and girths, bushes, bracken and assorted suchlikes.

Cop Lane (Penwortham)

“Penwortham” on your address can mean the difference between “your house is a decent investment” and “your house is a reasonable price.” It’s the largest town council in England, and is best described as being split between Higher Penwortham (comfy suburbia, 80s/90s housing boom new build on rabbit warren estates, gravel drives, boutiques amongst the Co-op and Spar), and Lower Penwortham (post-war housing sprawl, terraced streets, chippy, Booze Brothers).

Carrying the West Lancs over the Ribble
Down this way, magic happens. Well, Penwortham
The cyclepath which takes me to the site of Cop Lane station runs parallel to the embankment and track-bed of the West Lancs line, scrambling up to which is a strife not worth taking (i.e., it was muddy and it really is very, very steep).  There’s not actually much to see here other than the allotments on one side and the embankment on the other, with one public footpath running north/south towards a residential estate bordered by the distinctive shell of what would have been a bridge.

Walk, don’t run. Or cycle. But don’t run.

One long stroll and crossing of “Golden Way” later, I’m on Cop Lane, where the station and all signs of it have been long since obliterated underneath the carriageways. As Beeching predicted would happen at the time, buses now run in every direction at regular intervals, to and from Preston in a loop and at the far end of the road Stagecoach services to Southport along the A59. As the lazy part of me wouldn’t mind following this A-road to New Longton, the ‘rules’ I’m making up as I go along mean my route has to take as close a line as possible to the original route, so away from the A-road I go to the back-streets and rural parts.

New Longton (and Hutton)

Creeping around bins. Nice.

Not in shot – man wearing novelty bow-tie

Opened originally as “Howick” and “Hutton and Howick”, the station at New Longton got another name change not long before its destruction. The walk I take as close to the line of the railway shows homes replaced by farm-houses, and the distinct smell of manure following the numerous tractors driving around in all directions. With the built-up commuter towns behind me, the difference is marked and immediate, as this is the start of the journey into West Lancashire’s main economy source – cabbages, and a lot of them.

New Longton is far more of a enlarged Middle England suburbia than it used to be, with the large homes looking out towards fields giving way to rabbit warren estates and post-war sprawl. I spot, easily enough, “Station Cottage”, the level-crossing keeper’s place of residence until the line was closed in the 1960s, and on the way there I am served at the Post Office by a man wearing a novelty bow-tie, lights flashing in sequence. They tend to have these sorts of people in villages.

Windsor Avenue, at the bottom of which would
have been the line on its approach into Longton.
Aerial maps show the end of the street abutting the track bed.

It’s not possible for me to stomp across the fields to get to the line of the railway, not least because of the housing in the way, so I have to follow the streets onto the next station at Longton itself. Which takes me almost to the end of the first stage, but not before spotting the distinctive Catholic Church, and before that…

Nursery Lane, between New Longton and Longton Bridge, at the
mid-point of which ran the station. It’s now the kind of
house which must have only been built through lottery winnings.

Longton Bridge

…crossing the A59 by taking a deep breath and just going for it. No traffic lights here, you see, just a fence with a gap in the middle.  The further I go along Chapel Lane, the wider the gap between me and the line, which is now running at a slight curve away from Longton “proper”. This is one of those “cause and effect” questions – has Longton always been destined to grow away from the location of its railway station or did it happen that way when the line was closed?

Certainly Longton exists in far greater area and population off Chapel Lane than it does where the line and station used to be, with a row of shops and pubs on both sides of the A59. What does still exist at what was Longton Bridge is the vast stone walls which used to carry the line over the road, with a new housing estate “Bentley Park” covering the station site itself.

Chapel Lane in the sunshine, a very distinctive place
of worship along the route for the weary traveller

Hoole

Longton Bridge station was on this side
of the road

The final station on my wander around looking for any remaining clues of the West Lancs Line is the first of the genuinely remote rural outposts, which requires a long walk along what is still called “Station Road”, although there’s very few remnants of this nowadays.



My walk has to follow the line as far as possible, though in this case, it’s not easy to do so, and I find myself following the bus route through near-by Walmer Bridge. Here’s a population centre which looks like a crossbow running off the main A-road, with both of its pubs now closed. Whilst it might have been sensible to name the station as “Walmer Bridge”, it is after the local parish of Hoole (“shed”) from which it took its name.

I notice that there are fences and rubble here which might suggest the remote location has saved more than most others, though only the fences are actually of the time, with the level crossing fences the most obvious. Not quite so obvious a clue to the nature of Hoole is the gin bottle I find nestled in the hedgerow.

Site of the old line and station

Gin Bottle, in Hedge

Conclusions

I take the number 2 bus back home, which meanders through and around all the places which used to have a train station. As has always been the case, the bus stops and starts at almost every bus stop, with people of all ages using it to get into Preston. If Beeching had designed his consolidation process with a view to promote bus travel, then at least here it’s worked.

It’s notable that the greatest sign of the line which used to be here remains in greater clarity though Google Maps rather than on the ground. If Penwortham is anything, it’s a town in need of access to the rail network, and that’s now impossible to ever achieve. Whilst car and bus travel continue to clog up the arteries, the short-termism of Beeching is shown up for the daftness it was. Rail enthusiasts might get nostalgic about reopening lines, though there should be some realism these days. Hoole, for example, is unlikely to justify Network Rail’s business case criteria, even if nearby students to Hutton Grammar and coppers from Lancashire police HQ were included.

Stagecoach probably do very well running three – count them – bus services along the Southport route, visiting all the places where stations used to be, although like my walk, the route is somewhat extended, takes longer in time and costs far more to complete. At its height, the route would enable passengers to travel to Blackburn without changing trains. To make the same train journey now from Southport requires changing at Bolton, or changing at Wigan and then Bolton, or maybe Burscough and Preston. With the advance in years, some steps have been quite clearly backwards.

The next stage of my journey takes me from the River Douglas to Southport….

Have passport, will travel, won’t legislate

I’m no fan of Nadine Dorries, the Mid Bedfordshire MP whose time in the Australian jungle on prime-time ITV was meant to teach the basics of abortion law to an audience ignorant of politics via the processes of eating an ostrich anus. (I could at this point say ‘she was lying with cockroaches rather than sitting on the backbenches with them, but let’s not go there….)

Her inappropriate trip abroad rightly saw her punished and stripped of the Party Whip, the significance of which might filter down to her when she’s stopped catching up with her constituent’s emails whilst lazying in a luxury hotel.

And then, from the other side of the Commons, along comes a man to usurp the scourge of abortion clinics and horny teenagers everywhere in the pursuit of passport-stamping.

Hendrick has hit the headlines for all the wrong reasons by way of the hitherto obscure “All Party Parliamentary China Group”, who seem to promote on their website press-releases from other government departments whilst not doing anything themselves. The MP for Preston is called “an officer” of the Group, but one seemingly without portfolio.

Well, the former MEP for Lancashire Central has found something to do without a portfolio, and has found it to the great cost of £43,211. He has spent four months  – FOUR, count them Nadine, you amateur! – away from his Preston constituency, presumably acceptable to his Labour colleagues on Preston Council because they’ve chosen not to say anything against him in public. (At least Nadine’s party colleagues grumbled to the press; Preston’s Labour Group have been silent.)

Oh wait a minute, maybe they have said something about his conduct. Earlier this year they had to grumble and groan because he’d forgotten that his constituency has something called a Guild once-every-twenty-years, calling his decision to wander back to Preston on a whim an embarrassment. An MP since the year 2000, he should by now have been told that it’s tradition for Prestonians to mark the Guild from the start.

There’s nothing on his personal website or the APPCG site which explains why Hendrick has to take so much time away from being an MP for Preston. It’s reminiscent of the worst days of arrogance from parliamentarians, who considered a safe seat (majority 7,733 in 2010, down from 12,268 in 2001) to be a platform from which they launched a totally separate career. At least Nadine said she was leaving her constituency duties to talk about politics (or at least try to, good job ITV editors). What does Mark Hendrick say? Well, from what I can see, nothing.

His predecessor as Labour MP was Audrey Wise, for whom the term ‘firebrand’ might as well have been her given first name. The difference between them is beyond comprehension. From being the MEP for the area, Mark has now become the MP for jollies and junkets, so distant from the Ribble that he almost forgot about the Guild. Is it any wonder that his share of the vote has plummeted in the ten years between first election and the most recent? Voters are aware of his jet-set lifestyle even if he isn’t aware of them.

Even if the ‘zombie review’ does get voted through, Preston’s constituency boundaries give any Labour candidates a headstart. Hendrick could spend four weeks out of every five drinking at Ambassador’s parties without suffering much at all. It’s this complacency and arrogance which marks him out the most. There’s no justification for his absence or the connected costs. There’s no justification for his jetting off to China without any reason or result published on-line. Preston already has very strong relations with China and elsewhere in Eastern Asia through the University of Central Lancashire and from their website it appears Mark Hendrick’s jet-setting adventures have no place in their achievements.

Safe seats foster ‘ownership issues’, and boy does Holidaying Hendrick come across as having those. Preston is not supposed to be the hotel he checks into every quarter whilst clocking up the airmiles. But it seems to be, and that can’t be something on which the local CLP can be silent on for much longer….can it?

Lancashire – Boundary Review, take 2

And so it’s here, Schrödinger’s review, a wholesale review of Parliamentary boundaries which is both alive and dead, relevant and pointless, current and abandoned. Is it ongoing whilst also aware of its demise? It could be worth sitting down with a large cup of tea, or something stronger, to consider its position. First of all, a personal point. Whilst I had every faith that the Commission would take some notice of the Liberal Democrat proposals I supported (and in some cases assisted in selling at two public meetings), it appears that we failed to convince the scribes there to come round to our way of thinking. In some parts of this region the revised recommendations are – somehow – worse than the already cuckoo-bananas initial ideas. I challenge anyone to find a smaller community than “Reddish North” to be name-checked in a constituency. Anyway, to focus on the red rose county, here’s what the Commission now think should be the parliamentary make-up of Lancashire. You’ll find the maps for Lancashire over here.

Blackburn, Blackpool North and Fleetwood and Blackpool South are all unchanged from the initial proposals.

 Burnley and Accrington East and Pendle are significantly different from the initial proposals. Burnley is no longer divided somewhat arbitrarily across the town centre, which is a breakout of normality. It’s good to see Accrington isn’t cut up like a badly hacked onion either, though the justification for joining the two towns together is still fairly flimsy. There’s something of the “flat map syndrome” about it to my eyes, but at least the word “Pendle” has re-appeared on a constituency map. No explanation behind the reason to ditch it in the first place, by the way.

 The seat of Chorley has been left untouched, meaning it follow the size and shape of the council boundaries as initially proposed, as will Fylde.

 In the west of Lancashire, there’s a slightly different shape and a familiar name for Lancaster and Wyre, a modified version of the initially recommended “Lancaster”. The boundary alteration is the loss of Greyfriars, the most Fulwoodian of all Preston’s Fulwood wards, which is moved from Preston to join the towns of the A6 corridor all the way up to Lancaster city centre.

As ever, the city of Lancaster is split in half at Skerton, allowing Morecambe and Lunesdale to remain unchanged, All three parties agreed with each other on the “Fishwick issue”, brought about by the Commission initially proposing that the Preston ward of Fishwick should be attached to the rural expanse of Ribble Valley.

To balance up the numbers, Fishwick is now back with Preston, which loses Greyfriars but is otherwise exactly the same, so if these changes actually make it through the Commons (stop laughing), the constituency would be formed from almost the entire city, omitting Lea/Cottam, Greyfriars and the rural communities to the north. The modified Ribble Valley is essentially the seat fought at the 2010 election, taking in Bowland, Clitheroe, Longridge and Bamber Bridge/Walton-le-Dale. The ne thing this time round is the addition of Rishton and Great Harwood (dare I suggest amending the name to “Valleys of Ribble and Hynd”?).

South Ribble and West Lancashire have not been changed either, meaning that the former stretches from Leyland to the Southport border, crossing the River Douglas, and the latter brings together Ormskirk, Skelmersdale and all points surrounding. This leaves us with two very peculiar East Lancashire seats indeed, and these really are the Commission at their most…erm….well, peculiar. The new Rossendale and Oswaldtwistle gets a bonus point for mentioning Oswaldtwistle (let’s please have an honourable member for Oswaldtwistle.). The geography of the area is a bit tenuous, to put it nicely. I suppose it’s something that the connecting road is tarmaced at least. The shape of the seat resembles a dead rabbit, just squint.

Bolton North and Darwen joins together the northern suburbs from Bolton with the town of Darwen, logically enough, with a fair amount of hilly bits, moorland and twisty turny roads in between. To be fair, it’s an improvement on Rossendale and Darwen as currently exists (which the Commission seems to hate in its dismissal of our proposal). Wiser men than I will conclude what this means for the defending parties in each seat. It’s true that some already existing marginal seats will remain so – Blackpool, Chorley and South Ribble are already knife-edge without being altered too much. Significant additions of Tory territory into Lancaster and Preston will give Labour a bigger threat than usual, and in the east all three parties will face tough challenges in Burnley and Pendle.

Of course, all of this may be so much photocopier paper and highlighter pens. If there is no agreement between Coalition partners, never mind any other parties, there will be no boundary changes at all. Here’s to a whole host of “What might have been….”

time, gentlemen, please

Last week, my local drinking establishment closed down without much advance warning. The street its on used to have six pubs along its length; it now has one ‘cocktail bar’.  From having so much of a reputation for pubs that it was said Prestonians had one for every day of the year, thus prompting the creation of teetotalism, we are a city slowly and surely drying up. The most recent figures from within the industry suggests Britain is losing 100 pubs a month: some estimates put that far higher, maybe as many as twice that amount.

What is prompting the loss of pubs in the UK? It’s not just the smoking ban, or the increase in alcohol duties, or the popularity of supermarket deals, or any other single suggestion in isolation. It’s all those things, some of them, one of them, and others aside in combination depending on area. The old fashioned boozer is on the endangered list as much as the kakapo parrot, and in its place are a dwindling number of gastropub/brand pub combos. And not to sound too much of a grump on this, but they’re not always what I need of an evening.

I’ve seen some of the regulars from my local – the blokes who would sit in the same seats, at the same time, having the same drink and often sharing the same conversation – wandering around Preston looking for somewhere else to go. It’s a ‘Goldilocks’ process, each pub being not quite friendly enough, each seat not comfortable enough, each ale not poured just right. Now I know what some of you are thinking – you’re middle aged men putting the world to rights at a backstreet boozer, you don’t really need to rediscover the ‘perfect pub’. To a degree, you’re right. We just don’t want to find the wrong ones.

Now let’s not get over-romantic. There’s some terrible pubs out there. I can see why people argue very convincingly that the death of the British boozer is just the free market working its way through oversized buildings selling lager to a dwindling number of pensioners. In a society in which email and social networks are killing off the art of conversation, in which organising nights out has been reduced to a few texts, the death of the pub exacerbates the decline of our “social society”. Anecdotal evidence for the win – the 90 year old whose only interaction with the outside world was my local twice a week may now have nowhere to go.

(And even in my local, as it happens, there’s been one or two uneasy moments. I was swung at by a bloke who took offence at my belief in the existence of black holes, as he was adamant that they didn’t exist and my ‘chatting shit’ about them being real was enough for him to roll a punch at my face. Exception rather than rule, there, though.)

So now the country faces an unusual situation. CAMRA and its real ale supporting colleagues have never been so popular. Real ale and new micro-brewers are filling pubs with much more choice than we’ve seen in years. It’s just the structure of the pub industry has not kept strong against the resilience of the brewers. In oversized franchise pubs with little interaction between barstaff and customer, you might as well install self-service checkouts for all the experience you have when drinking. These places can’t ever be “your local” because you don’t feel local when drinking there. The “custom” part of “customer” is lost when the JD Wetherspoon you’ve chosen has hundreds of people surrounding you with no space for air, never mind asking about the weather.

And so where does this leave me? I’ve tried a number of new locals, all a bit different, all not quite as comfortable, all without a jukebox which leaves me VERY frustrated because I’d happily pour £20 a night into a jukebox rather than across the bar. I’m very conscious of the pubs I’m choosing have a secondary role as somewhere to meet and greet, somewhere to wind down, just somewhere to go if you have few other options, and how friendly and social and familiar these places can be. Maybe Britain’s binge drinking problem has its origins in the new generation of drinkers only knowing chain pubs with their neon lit special offers, rather than the world-to-rights solitude of the boozer down the road? I’m worried we won’t have long to find out as each of those boozers shuts up for good.

Mine’s a Cumberland, or whichever guest’s on that takes my fancy, please. And a packet of Scampi Fries too.

different kettle of fish

Tucked away on the Lancashire Evening Post website is an update on the campaign by market traders against plans to turf them out onto the street.

Whilst the body text is the usual mix of market traders outrage and Council platitudes, the interesting content fills the comment section underneath. Now I know more than most that comment sections can be filled with all manner of outrage, cynicism and distrust. However in this article, someone using the pseudonym ‘turtle dove’  has dropped all manner of hints and heavy allegations which a number of other users, me included, suggest form the latest attempt by Preston Council to ‘fix’ any consultation in their favour.

Backstory is pretty simple. Having lost the Tithebarn regeneration scheme by virtue of the economic collapse and nobody supporting it, Preston Council has been desperately trying to chase a flashed ankle regardless of the state of the person connected to it. There is still talk of a Metrolink style tram system which would connect (un)willing passengers between Deepdale and an industrial estate, a multi-million pound shuttle service which is already covered by numerous buses.

I need not go into the attempts to demolish Preston’s bus station, other than to note that the rumoured cost of improving the place has shot up with every panicked press release from Town Hall, with the additional lie (for it is a lie) that the 1,100 car parking places are under threat from concrete cancer.

The Fish market controversy is ‘classic’ Preston Council. Having faked a consultation exercise, stage two is thinly veiled blackmail. The covered market is popular, always busy and has a community spirit amongst those people for whom the stalls are their living. Preston Council’s latest wheeze is to evacuate the Markets for no good reason outside vague plans to ‘regenerate’ an area left to rot (by Preston Council) whilst Tithebarn distracted them. To persuade traders to leave the covered market for the uncovered streets, the Council has failed to outline exactly why, without any prior warning, the market building is no longer ‘fit for purpose’.

This is where ‘turtle dove’ comes in, spreading all manner of accusations for which there seems to be no independent source for his claims.

These are, in no apparent order:

They don’t say an additional 6 million pounds capital investment needs to spent on the market just to keep it open. That is the heavy burden council tax payers will have to shoulder if it is kept open. If you support keeping the market hall open then you need to be aware of the full financial implications.

And

They don’t say that the market could close tomorrow because of problems with the ventilation or wiring or the escalator. don’t say it nearly closed last year because of vermin – problems which the traders haven’t addressed.

And also

The traders are business people and are playing poker with council in an attempt to get a better deal when they transfer

And additionally

The market traders are telling the whole story. They don’t say that the Council subsidises them to the tune of £76,000 per year. Their service charge has been frozen since 1996. 

This ‘drip drip’ approach of ‘truth’ reminds me of the constant, unfounded and ultimately useless propaganda used by the Council against the Bus Station. Costs to improve the station – the largest of its kind in Britain – went up from £2m to £5m in response to constantly favourable polls in the LEP and elsewhere. The more people joined campaigns to save the station, the higher the costs, until the ruling Labour Group chose the week after local elections this year to essentially confirm its demolition next year, when there are no local elections, in face of massive opposition.

Now it’s the turn of the covered market, which is suddenly beyond all help and repair, just as the Council realises that there’s no support for their policy. Market traders in other northern towns are not given this roughshod treatment, leaving Preston isolated as the only major population centre in the region for whom at least two landmarks are considered only good enough for scrap and selling.

If Preston Council really did listen to its citizens – the ‘your city, your say’ shambles has been kicked into long grass – they’d soon learn to leave both Market and Bus Station alone. But if ‘turtle dove’ is right, and there’s all sorts of secrets we don’t know about gathering dust on Town Hall shelves, how do we even try to fight back?