Welcome to my home town: Chorley’s charms are often overlooked

During lockdown, many of us made the pilgrimage back to our family homes – and rediscovered them through fresh eyes. Part guide, part love letter, “Home towns” is a new series in which we celebrate where we’re from. After all, it could still be a while before we can go anywhere else…

It’s all part of the rich tapestry of teenagehood to plot your great escape – in my case, from life in a northern town.

I grew up in the village of Adlington, an area in the small Lancashire mill town of Chorley, whose only salvation for me back then was its proximity to Manchester. Weekends of the early Nineties were spent travelling back and forth to Piccadilly Station, clad in my finest, baggiest “And on the Sixth Day, God created Manchester” T-shirt to traipse around Affleck’s Palace and peruse the rare Inspiral Carpets’ b-sides in Eastern Bloc records. I was desperate to be part of a scene and, well, Chorley just wasn’t cutting it.

That’s not to say I don’t have fond memories of growing up in the market town ensconced in the bosoms of Bolton, Wigan, Blackburn and Preston. For one thing, it was put on the map by a bizarre collection of people and things, from Peter Kay’s spoof radio station, Chorley “Coming In Your Ears” FM (the real Chorley FM were apparently not amused), to being home to the largest Mormon church outside Utah. An imposing white granite temple where the UK’s 188,000 Latter Day Saints converge, it was built in 1998 to much bafflement as to why the heck they would choose Chorley. But, as it happens, the world’s oldest surviving Mormon community is in nearby Preston. Who knew?

It’s not only Phoenix Nights and niche religious practice that have brought my home town to prominence. Comedy actor Steve Pemberton is a local lad though if Wikipedia’s unsubstantiated claim that he based Royston Vasey in The League of Gentlemen on the area is to be believed, he likely keeps his head down on visits to the family these days.

There have also been a fair share of knighthoods dished out around Chorley way. It was the birthplace of illustrious sugar magnate and Tate gallery founder Sir Henry Tate, and Sir Bradley Wiggins made Chorley home before the 2012 Olympics to be close to the Manchester Velodrome – and earned himself a gold post box and the freedom of the town in the process. And then we have Sir Lindsay Hoyle, long-standing Labour MP for Chorley, whose dulcet Lancastrian tones bring order to the rabble in the House of Commons. Has he had his head turned by the splendid Speaker’s residence in Parliament? Has he ‘eck as like. Sir Lindsay makes for Euston and the train north every weekend, snubbing his grand and apparently rodent-riddled digs for a potter around Chorley market “talking to real people about real things”.

open image in gallery

Unlike Sir Lindsay, I left and never went back. I moved first to “That London”, and, later, Brighton, pretty much as south as south can be. Which turned me into a Professional Northerner. I’ve clung on to my accent for dear life, Coronation Street is up there with my greatest loves, I don’t wear nearly enough clothes in winter and I still feel a bit posh eating lunch and dinner instead of dinner and tea (and balk at the upper-class notion of “supper” because, for Lancashire folk when I was growing up, that was a mid-evening cheese and onion bap after you’d had your tea at 5 o’clock).

My love for the pasties and butter pies of Greenhalgh’s bakeries knows no bounds. And there is no cheese like a salty, crumbly Lancashire. It laughs in the face of a strong Cheddar when grilled on toast, popped in a barmcake – not a roll, and good Lord, never a bun – with a spot of pickle, or accompanying a Chorley cake (for the uninitiated, the shortcrust version of close relative the Eccles cake, featuring a far more even distribution of currants. You’re welcome).

Nowadays, I head up the M6 purely for high days and holidays but, in the pandemic, when trips to France and weekends in Wales have been thwarted at the eleventh hour by ever-changing restrictions, there have been opportunities for longer visits, for the chance to view those places I took for granted in my youth with more mature, discerning eyes. The green and pleasant lands of Lancashire don’t get the glory of the surrounding counties, trumped by the beauty of the Lake District and the moody splendour of the Yorkshire Dales. But I saw the countryside of my home town, at the foot of the West Pennine Moors, through a fresh lens during lockdown. Here’s how to explore Chorley’s best bits for yourself.

The walk to the top of Rivington Pike is a traditional trek for locals on Good Friday when there is an Easter fair, but it’s delightful at any time of year. Starting at Rivington Barn, pass the terraced and Japanese gardens (the work of Bolton soap magnate Lord Lever) to the Pike Tower on the summit for unrivalled views all over the North West. On a clear day, you’ll see Blackpool Tower, the Lake District, Jodrell Bank in Cheshire and even as far as the Isle of Man.

open image in gallery

Afterwards, get yourself coffee and cake at the glorious Spring Cottage (currently open for takeout Friday-Sunday) or head to nearby Horwich for the trademark sticky sausage baguette with onion marmalade and Lancashire cheese at Thyme Deli, where you can also have a good foodie spend on local honey, Lancashire tea and Fiddler’s Lancashire crisps. Another pretty walk is the four-mile loop of Anglezarke Reservoir, followed by a roast in the Yew Tree Inn, a foodie pub long beloved of the locals.

The UK’s longest waterway, the Leeds and Liverpool Canal, runs through Chorley, and a popular lockdown outing is a stroll towards Adlington, stopping off at Frederick’s Ice Cream. A local institution run by four generations of the Federici family, they were making fabulous flavour combos long before the likes of Ben and Jerry thought to stick pretzels and cookie dough into a vat of vanilla.

Chorley’s covered market, which has been on the go since 1498, is the heart of the town, and is accompanied by a street market every Tuesday. And back when Waitrose was only for southerners, Lancashire had Booths. The high-end supermarket has a large branch in the town centre selling produce from the North West’s finest suppliers, from Manx Kippers to Morecambe Bay potted shrimps, and Formby Coast asparagus to Cumbrian Stringers Beer.

open image in gallery

When there’s a family celebration to be had, the good folk of Chorley head to Papa Luigis for pizza, pasta and the old-school dessert fridge (open for deliveries), or The Red Cat, with its Greek chef and Mediterranean menu dishing out summer holiday vibes.

A few miles away in the Ribble Valley and on the edge of the Forest of Bowland is The Northcote, a luxury hotel decorated with Michelin stars, thanks to chef Lisa Goodwin-Allen, a regular on The Great British Menu and Saturday Kitchen. They’re currently doing Northcote At Home gourmet boxes. Once the hotel reopens, rooms start from £190 per night, and they have gourmet breaks featuring a five-course dinner.