Life off the open road

Nov 26 2009 by Richard Irvine, Liverpool Daily Post

MAYBE it’s my age, maybe it’s the explorer in me or maybe it’s because there’s nothing really that good on television on a Saturday afternoon, but I’ve started driving to unlikely towns for a day out.

I load up the car with travel sweets, CDs and the girlfriend then it’s off we go.

So in the spirit of a far-flung adventurer writing about his travels upon returning home here are my findings.

Blackburn: We arrived in this northern town in the bleakest of spirits after a brief but hearty disagreement over an overtaking manoeuvre I’d performed on a tractor.

I thought we had plenty of room, my girlfriend didn’t.

It was also blowing a hoolie, raining very heavily and quite chilly. Poor Blackburn looked like it may be a victim of circumstance until I noticed the glorious vista.

What fabulous views across the town; behold the industrial estate over yonder.

What with all the sightseeing, I’d kind of lost track of the fact I was driving.

So it was with no surprise I found myself in the wrong lane but what to do?

No worries, a friendly Blackburner (is that right?) let me into the correct lane.

When I say correct lane, I mean pedestrianised city centre lane, which was fairly handy because there was no way I was getting out of the car in this weather.

Another revelation; fantastic town hall, historic looking buildings and a well-stocked town centre meant Blackburn scored a solid 7 out of 10 and the locals got an 8 because one let me into his lane.

Wilmslow: We’d arrived in poor spirits after a small head to head over the official speed limit on country lanes.

I said it was safe to do 60mph but my girlfriend was worried about oncoming horses.

Upon our arrival, I was disappointed with a distinct lack of greenery. I thought a town famed for its football-playing inhabitants would have more open space. Where were the parks for these so-called professionals to practice and meet up for a bit of five-a-side?

From my perspective it mostly consisted of large gates or walls hiding larger houses.

This is all well and good if you live in them but I don’t. I wanted to have a look at stuff but the large walls made such snooping very difficult indeed. I realise this may be the point but if I had wanted to see a wall I would have gone to Northumberland and seen Hadrian’s.

So Wilmslow gets a five out of ten and the locals made me insecure because I didn’t have a Ferrari so they get a three out of bitter revenge.

Alderley Edge: See Wilmslow above.

Buxton: ‘Home of the water’, I said in a bid to lighten the mood after a largely good-humoured shouting match about an earlier amber gambler incident.

We were expecting a lot from Buxton but there were too many coach parties; honestly, can’t these people find anything better to do than drive to a city/town for amusement?

Luckily we found somewhere to eat away from the daytrippers, but because we were the only people in there without a motability scooter parked out the front, I felt conscious that the waitresses were watching us in case we did a runner, stole or tried to smoke in the toilets.

So let’s give Buxton a nine for its good looks but let’s drop two marks because it knows it. And we’ll give the locals a five for their suspicion of me but add two because they were right (I stole a bread roll for the journey back).