Saturday, April 29, 2006

Fairy Glen, Appley Bridge and Fairy Stories


I moved into the area about 15 years ago and then six years ago moved into the Wrightington area. It was then that I first heard about Fairy Glen.

It is a footpath that starts somewhere between the top of Parbold Hill and The Dicconson Arms and ends up in the back of the fields of Appley Bridge. Anyway, it is a lovely footpath which cuts its way through trees and woodlands.

People talked about how 'lovely it is', 'how magical it is' and 'how unspoilt it is'. So one day I found myself wandering down there. And fair enough, it was lovely.

As you enter the Glen, you will see a large, colourful, illustrated, hand painted sign announcing 'Welcome To Fairy Glen'. You'll also see plenty of bluebells, or ferns or screaming schoolkids, depending on the day or time of the year you go.

But, one thing I guarantee you will not see, is Fairies.
It is just a name. A nice name. A lovely name. But it is a lie. There are no fairies. Ever.

Forget the kids, they will grow up soon enough.

If we, as adults, accept this sign and don't question it, then I guess it is OK to accept the other sign that is only a mile down the road towards the motorway.

It announces 'Welcome To Lancashire -- A Place Where Everyone Matters.'

It is a lovely idea isn't it? To think that we are all equal and that we collectively matter?

If that is the case, then why do people have to wait months to see a Doctor?
Why are people still waiting up to a year to see a specialist?
Why are mothers, fathers, sons and daughters dieing because they cannot afford the best drugs?
Why are hundreds of local health workers being sacked?
Why is our rainwater sold back to us by a private company, (who make vast profits)?
Why is it that the vast majority of the public do not have the rights to walk over the vast open countryside of Lancashire?
Why is it that the vegetable fields are full of exploited East Europeans working for a pittance?
Why is it that drugs are illegal in this country, yet I can by drugs in virtually every single pub I go in?
etc, etc, etc,....

Maybe because we are asleep.
Numbed into not questioning what is going on right under our nose.

Even though fairies are a lovely idea, there are none.
Even though equality and respect are lovely ideas.
We are not equal and our rights are not respected. Just look around you.

If you want to get a more accurate measure of your county councillors, then read the signs as you enter rural Lancashire from Yorkshire. The signs read 'Welcome to Lancashire- The County Palatine'.

Now, I didn't know what Palatine meant, so I looked it up in the dictionary. It said, ...Palatine... endowed with Royal Priveliges.

So there you have it. That is what is really important. Privelige and Royalty.
Just about a million miles away from the cramped and dirty housing of Wigan, Preston or Burnley.
From the estates of poor quality housing of Skelmersdale or Blackburn.
From the caravans of Polish agricultural workers in Rufford.
And on and on and on....

There are no Fairies.
Just stupid Fairy Stories.

And if the fairy stories are just not enough for you, if your pain becomes too much, you could always rise up and fight the system.... or maybe it is easier to buy drugs which are available in virtually every single pub, school, and workplace.

Now, who would have thought of that?

Wake Up.

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Beach Life Salon, Appley Bridge


Beach Life Salon. This is one of those places where lovely ladies, make themselves look even more lovely, by having their nails filed, painted and polished by even more lovelier ladies. I realise this could be a sexist opinion, written from a particular male point of view..... but, if there were only women in the world, would women still bother to look so pretty?
I doubt it. I am just glad they do.......

Anyway, I was just mentioning the place because I go in there from time to time to use the sunbed, (I know, I know .... vanity... skin cancer .... I should know better.... but I don't). Whenever I go in there, the staff do something which is really unusual, especially where young girls and middle-aged men are concerned. The girls look up and almost without exception..... they smile.

Seriously.
Pretty young girls doing something as extremely 'uncool' as smiling. It makes my day. It really does. For a fleeting moment I think...... is there a chance....? what if I pull my stomach in a bit...? Maybe I shouldn't wear slip-ons? Maybe I should dig out my Brut and 'splash it all over'.....?

I pay my £3, or whatever it is, and try and keep my composure as I attempt to saunter in the direction of the sunbeds.... (at this point, the price of the sunbed session could have cost £30.... I really wouldn't notice.... or care...).

I strip off knowingly, acutely aware of the hareem of minimalistic-black-clad beauties busying themselves only a few short, almost non-existant, feet away.

I glimpse at my body in the mirror.... and thank god there is a lock on the door.

I put the token in the slot.... 30 seconds till take-off.
I pull the headphones out the socket... I don't want music to take me away from here... to distract me. I want to enjoy... relish... taste... each second of ... our partial intimacy.

For surely that is what it is?
They know I am naked. They know I am trying to make my body more attractive to the opposite sex....
There it is. That word. This is surely our partial intimacy....
10 seconds to go.

I crawl in the coffin-cold box, rest the tiny eye shades on the bridge of my nose and pull the lid down. My body is freezing, my buttocks are clenched and I momentarily feel like it was all a bad idea. Then I hear, feel and see a flicker, flicker, flicker...
Lift off.

What do I think about, for the 6 or 9 minutes in which I lie and fry...?
Well, actually, having read my introduction, not what you would think.
The girls, (ladies actually), quickly fade way. The world too, quickly fades away. And I am left with my thoughts.

So many thoughts.
Ideas half-done, projects half-baked, people half-loved...
A life half-lived.

The warm sunshine soothes me... the fans brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr lulls and laps my seashore... somewhere down the beach I hear giggling... I am not alone. I belong here.

Then blackness. Instant blackness and fast-encroaching cold. My £3 is over.
I rush to dress.
I smell differently.
Is it me?
Or do sunbeds bring something out of you...?