Not
an ordinary Day
Lymm festival 29.6.2014.
Looking at our old photos, Bolton clarion history, I
was intrigued by the group of Bolton clarion cyclists
surrounding the village monument in the centre of Lymm. A fair number had made
the trip from Bolton and I wondered if we could
perhaps recreate a bit of history with a re-enactment of the photo from the
nineteen twenties. Little did I know what just such a venture would bring.
Lymm may be just another
village passed on the way to a more distant point for some but for me it is the
link to my personal cycling history.
My first ever proper bike ride was to Lymm,
prior to that my cycling was restricted to batting round the council estate on
something that resembled a bike, today rubbish bikes are referred to as ‘bike
shaped objects’ but they would have been classed as good then. Those were the
days when we were still recovering from a world war and rationing of food, fags
and sweets still in force and the bike was king.
I had a cousin into cycling,
Winnie, a very competent cyclist was she, about five years my senior, as a
member of the St.Christopher cycling club she had many miles behind her. Winnie
it was who introduced me to a whole new world, freedom and love of the open
road with a ride along country lanes leading to the village of Lymm
It transpired that the
invitation to a bike ride was in a way a trial as on returning to Winnie’s
uncle George asked, ‘how did he do’, ‘well alright I suppose’, I suspect
however she may have been of assistance up Firs Brow to Four Lane ends. At
thirteen, on my first ‘proper’ bike ride, on a ‘bike shaped object’ I doubt
very much I could be considered a future world beater.
Uncle George then took me into
the back yard and opened the shed door, ‘what do you think of that?’. There
before me was a Norman sports bike, a nice shiny green with chrome everywhere.
A little bemused I stood and gawped, what was I supposed to say, such a bike
had never been within my or my parents reach. I went weak at the knees as uncle
George declared, ‘it’s yours’, I could just not believe what I was hearing, I
was stunned. The bike had been bought for Winnie’s younger sister but on her
first ride out with the club she cut the ride short, returned home with a vow
never to touch the bike again, and I was now blessed with the ownership.
That first ride to Lymm was so
indelibly etched into me that I felt an affinity with the village, to me it was
a magical place, so far removed from where I was brought up, almost like a
spiritual home. Time and again I was drawn back, each visit just as enjoyable
as the last, after all I was seeing things you just don’t see on a Farnworth
council estate, things like garden orchards with apples, pears and plums along
the way. I had my first encounter in the Dingle at Lymm with a red squirrel,
you certainly did not see these beautiful little animals in Farnworth, it was a
moment to savour. I was walking in the wooded Dingle, it was so quiet and
suddenly the squirrel was in front of me, for a brief moment we stared at each
other then suddenly it was gone in a scampering hate behind one of the huge
trees. It may have gone but it has stayed in my memory forever.
As a consequence of the re-enactment
of the Lymm historic photo the story was picked up by the organisers of the
Lymm Festival with an invite to lead the parade into the village on the opening
day. Well for me it was a no brainer, I was going and that was definite. Peter
Moore, our secretary was sent the invite along with a copy of a book tracing
the history of Lymm and district which was interesting in its own right but a
highlight was a section outlining clarion history and the impact cycling had.
It was agreed that the club
would wholeheartedly support the Festival and arrangements were made and
details distributed among members.
On the day the support from
members was great and we duly assembled at Broomedge along with the rest of the
parade participants, greater in number and variety than we could have imagined.
Cars, tractors, motor bikes, vintage and veteran, all getting ready for the
short trip into the village then on to the showgound, and of course we were
given the honour of leading the cavalcade.
Great though the honour was and
the pleasure felt, it was nothing to the feelings I had on entering the
village, huge crowds were gathered and as we appeared loud applause, cheering,
waving and clapping greeted us. In my seventy six years I have never been so
moved at a public event, I was close to tears, my memories now of Lymm could be
construed as complete, though no doubt I will continue to visit from time to
time, hopefully on my bike.
