Why are we here?
A heady cocktail of capital, coal, cotton, cultivation, commerce and cricket created you.
The end of the age of celery heralded the construction of a new landscape of consumption.
Spoil and soil from the cuttings of the M60, added to by Etihad detritus created an elevated mound some hundred feet in height, across an area of seventeen hectares.
Where are we going?
Playing golf has been permanently postponed, the proposed light industrial units were knocked back by local authority planning officers, and residents’ objections.
So let’s get off to the Expo!
I took myself off there, take a look around, get a feel for the place. Currently the province of rebel dog walkers and guerrilla gardeners, I was informed that the rights of way are regularly blocked by an employee of Cordingley’s Estate Agents, who closes the gaps in the perimeter fencing, subsequently photographing his wiry handiwork. The gaps are then promptly reopened and walkways reestablished.
Short eared owls have been spotted.
I was told of the legend concerning Peg’s lantern – fearing for the well being of her son, Peg wanders the dark lanes in search of the errant offspring, later found drunk in a ditch.
This area is a locus of deep, deep energies and histories, monkey with it at your peril.
These are observations from a hill: