I WATCHED the lovely 1961 film Whistle Down The Wind -- filmed around Burnley and Clitheroe -- the other afternoon.
The children of that era seemed a world away from the trendy little devils we rear today.
Imagine today's little 'uns playing out in gaberdine macs and wellies with home knitted cardigans and jumpers. They wouldn't be seen dead in them, unless they had a designer label of course.
It brought back lovely memories of squelching about in the mud on land where Hourigan House is build -- the days of kick out can, spittybottle and hopscotch.
I'm showing all the signs of growing older, reminiscing about happy times when you had nought and knowing an area when it was all fields. I make no apology. I'm just grateful I'm not young today. Are you?
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