Photo-a-Day  (Tuesday, 16th May, 2023)

I'll be in the area in September for two weeks. Tell me, is there an actual finger post.

My favourite area of Wigan Borough.

That grass wants a cut

Missing the old concrete bus shelter with graffitti, with whiffy attached facilities either side.
There was a finger post - but it has one ways and traffic islands now, with multiple metal signage.
The trees and grasses remain - still has a rural look.
Good one, as usual, Dennis.

The metal finger post doesn’t have the same ‘ring’ to it as the wooden one….
It looks like the grass cutting is being ‘cut back’! Same where I live..

Nice photo Dennis. Aspull always had such a nice "village" feel to it.

I like Dandelions, one man’s weed is another man’s Orchid I suppose.

I'll tell you a tale of an owd Aspuller, imagine the scene sun rise in Aspull, a sleepy village on the edge of the West Lancashire Pennine moors, a man walks into the kitchen where breakfast is being prepared. Perched precariously on his head is a tweed flat cap, and through the holes of his string vest you can't miss his large beer belly hanging voluminously over the waistband of his now grimy, though once white Y fronts, on his feet are large dust encrusted hob nail boots. He takes a big swig from his pint mug of sweet, strong tea and a deep breath before speaking - " I'm Alf an I works darn lone ert Moss pit, I mit bi t'ony one ust

fight for your green places ,
let your children breathe ,
Let them see the flowers ,
and those upon that feed .
Let them see a tree beside , another in a wood ,
Whilst listening to the trickling sound ,
we all so dearly love .
Let them hear the silence ,
above a drill or plane ,
Let them see the skylark ,
and recognise its claim . Let them see raindrops when captured by the sun ,
or early morning dew , when spinning has been done .
Streams they start with droplets ,
some end up in the sea , other’s just meander , beside us , you and me .most we never notice , their voices hide below ,but the message that they give us ,
I hope they learn to know ...

Owd marrer sorry owd lad don't understand thi.

The original road layout at Aspull had four fingers on the post....See
Item number 17968.

The original Post read Wigan, Bolton, Standish/Haigh, Horwich.

Eat munchy food too loudly in my grandma's house (Reservoir Street) e.g. crisps, celery, you would be told:
"Shurrup, th'ill 'ear thi uth Fingerpost."
This led me to think, aged 5/6, that everyone who lived at the Fingerpost spent their time listening!

Whether it’s a rose or a dandelion they are all beautiful. I always taught my sons no matter how busy you are always find time to stop and smell the roses and look up at those stars.

Gary, Ste Whitfield sold his evening papers from the old bus stop. When he went to do his deliveries he left the Papers in the bus stop so that people getting off the bus from work could get a paper and leave the money on top of the pile.
Can you imagine anyone doing that these days?

T. Wigan Council is taking Monty Don's advice, and leaving the grass a bit longer for the sake of butterfly's, bee's and all nature that live in long grass.

I like the idea of leaving the grass long except at road junctions/islands where it is dangerous because it obstructs your line of sight.

Edna as well as dandelions.

I do remember Ste's system, Dennis. Today the money would be gone and the stack would appear for sale on Ebay.
Ste and Maggie used to deliver the harvest festival fruit from St Elizabeth's to the old folk.

Words went astray yesterday, so here we go.
I'll tell you a tale from an owd Aspuller, imagine the scene sun rise in Aspull, a sleepy village on the edge of the West Lancashire Pennine moors, a man walks into the kitchen where breakfast is being prepared. Perched precariously on his head is a tweed flat cap, and through the holes of his string vest you can't miss his large beer belly hanging voluminously over the waistband of his now grimy, though once white Y fronts, on his feet are large, long worn and dirt encrusted hob nail boots. He takes a big swig from his pint mug of sweet, strong tea and a deep breath before speaking –

" I'm Alf an I worked darn lone ert Moss pit, I mit bi t'ony one ust still livin naw, wen yunger I wud gerawt evri neet suppin an ad rarndbart severn erso ale arrsses und club sup in, nar thi isnone isthi, therstil Legion burits nart same, onyroads I carn’t waark onyweer naw, und wen a finds mi trawsers al bi off purrin mi onyuns in, cos I geet sum sut from sweepie. al si thee.

Not a man of many words is Alf, but obviously a man of many pints, still he calls me Owd Marrer, so can’t be all that bad

Yes of course Linma, all sorts of wild flowers.