WHEN Mary Smith bought a new apartment in the centre of Bolton, she looked forward to having all the major amenities on her doorstep.

The flat was perfect for work, handy for all the major stores and superbly positioned for the nightlife.

But her dreams were quickly shattered when after moving in she realised her dream home was less than 100 yards from Bolton's notorious red light area.

Now nearly every night of the week on her way home to Clive Street she is confronted by men often propositioning her for sex.

Mary -- not her real name -- is angry that new homes are being built in the Shiffnall Street area.

And, with Bolton Council chiefs attempting to encourage more people to live in the centre of the town, she believes prospective new home owners should be warned about the red light district on their doorstep.

She believes action should be taken to crack down on the activities of the vice girls and the kerb crawlers.

Her demand comes at a time when detectives continue to hunt the killer of teenage prostitute Carly Bateman whose body was found in an alleyway off Crawford Avenue, The Haulgh, on the outskirts of the red light area.

This is Mary's story in her own words:

I used to be proud to live in Bolton and I was thrilled to be offered a new town centre apartment.

The thought of not having to trail out to vast shopping centres to purchase goods readily on sale in my own neighbourhood appealed to me.

But then I was propositioned by a motorist. I was one yard from the security gates to my home, it was 10.15pm and I was unescorted.

I had enjoyed a lovely play at the Octagon so I shrugged the incident off, refusing to allow my evening to be blighted.

But then it happened again later in the week when I was 50 yards from the security gates and the safety of my home.

The motorist was crawling along the kerb of the pavement on which I walked and it was 3.10pm on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

What had I done this time? Was my skirt too short or should I not be sleeveless? What was it about me that prompted this man to believe he had the right to intimidate me in this way?

What was worse was that it was happening to my visitors. I felt sorry for a female friend, who, having popped round to my place for lunch, later screamed down my intercom: 'It's me, open the gates, a man in a car just propositioned me!'

But then, I suppose she does wear a red anorak and walks with a stick.

Many times, I've asked myself what right I have to expect to be able to step out on to my balcony at 6.30pm on a sultry summer Saturday evening, with glass of wine in hand, and not be confronted by a convoy of kerb crawling vehicles?

Most are occupied by lone male drivers, making their way to the end of the street where a group of working girls are waiting to do business.

They form an orderly queue, one vehicle behind another and I smile as Mr Family Man with his wife and two children suddenly realises what is happening and squeezes out from the line, speeding off with purpose.

He cannot be a regular or he wouldn't dream of bringing his family this way at this time on a Saturday.

But then I spare a thought for the families of those who do queue.

I see the top-of-the-range Audi estate with the child seat in the back and the Ford Mondeo complete with ring-binders and A-Z on the parcel shelf. You know who you are, chaps.

Yet let us not forget those fathers, brothers, husbands, lovers who drive the liveried works' vehicles. After all it pays to advertise.

Finally of course there is the pervert.

I'm not going to divulge any details of his activities. He knows who he is and what he does and so do the police.

I am appalled to find that prostitutes are being encouraged to operate adjacent to my own neighbourhood.

Despite my complaints, I have no quarrel with the prostitutes but I fear as much for my own safety as I do theirs from the animals they attract.

It's about time Mr Double Standard Punter took a long look at himself and acknowledged the part he has played in bringing about the death of poor Carly Bateman.

She would not have been there if she could not have acquired the means to get her drugs so easily.

She has paid a wholly unacceptable price on behalf of our corrupt society.

I hope as Mr DSP puts his own children to bed and sits by the fire to watch TV with his wife, that he finds the courage to recognise the reality of his true worth as a human being.