YOU writing that column about Darwen in the Telegraph? asked a pal of mine in the Anchor pub the other day.

"Yeah. Problem?" I asked. "When are you going to slag off the traffic through t' town centre?" he asked.

"Hang on. Give me time," I told him. "And anyway, it's not that much of a problem", I lied.

"I remember The Big Snarl Up of around 40 years back.

"Folk are still trying to find their way home from that one..."

Market Street was still paved with glorious blue granite setts in those days and much of the town centre hadn't seen as much as a butter smear of tarmacadam.

Time, reckoned the local council, to smooth out the whole of the Circus.

Some row with the contractors ended up with the job being started on the Saturday afternoon that Blackburn Rovers were entertaining the mighty Manchester United.

Traffic was a lot lighter in those days of course but by early afternoon the town centre was jammed almost solid; it was even worse after the match as United fans were trying to make their way back.

Police were sending cars, coaches and buses everywhere; anywhere to get them out of the way.

Through Feniscowles, up Heys Lane to get lost in the wilds of Tockholes; up Goosehouse and Eccleshill and off into the darkening mists of Pickup Bank.

A complete nightmare, saved partly by bobbies Dave Wardle and acting sergeant Bob Nicholson introducing Darwen's very first one-way system - south through a narrowed Market Street towards Bolton Road; north along Green Street and down Bury Street.

It took close on 30 years for the formal introduction of that brief Saturday afternoon solution and now we have another variation that's causing so many headaches.

Back in the 60s, traffic through Darwen was, as I say, usually so much lighter.

Many folk will remember White Lion landlord Vin Morgan's big golden retriever which used to amble its way down to the zebra crossing outside Woolworth's and sit patiently waiting for the traffic to stop for it.

Local drivers who knew it used to pull up, flash their lights or give it an encouraging wave and the mutt would haul itself up and toddle across to the markets in search of a spot of lunch.

It would probably bump into butcher Don Todd's red setter round the meat and fish stalls.

This dog would wander round polishing off everything it could get its hungry jaws round - until the local bobbies caught it, regularly - and threw it into the high-walled pound behind the nick.

The wire-mesh walls were never high enough. Before the boys in blue had started the paperwork it had bounced off the sides in a crazy Z shape and cleared off back to the markets. One bright young bobby tied it up with rope, but it ate that as well.

Where was I? Oh, yes town centre traffic. Ah, well.

Perhaps next time. The problem's not going to go away is it?