April 13, 2013 § Leave a comment
My Dad encouraged my reading, he always had his head in a book, and I joined the junior library in Wigan as soon as I was old enough. This was the first place other than home that I really loved and it was situated on Station Road. A fine red bricked building packed with children’s books from wall to wall on the ground floor. Dark brown polished wooden flooring that creaked as you went scouring the shelves and librarians who would raise an eyebrow and give a scathing look at every creak. It felt like heaven to me and I was a regular little bookworm with my 3 books every week or so. The library later incorporated a Children’s Museum but the only thing of any interest I can remember was a large fossil trapped in coal.
My fellow booklover was Tony Lowe a lifelong friend and I can still remember us walking home on pitch black winter evenings when we were only 8 or 9yrs old. Ian Brady and Myra Hindley were snatching kids from the streets of Greater Manchester at the same time and every dim lit corner in Wallgate brought the spectre of Hindley beckoning us into her van with Death sat back in the shadows with his manic grinning skull.