Dreary damp dismal days that hang over the woods like a lingering cold.

Mist falling down from the heights like a blanket over the edge of the bed.

The early fall of evening giving new dimensions to the woods.

Frightening ideas creep into the mind, what could be hidden within its depths? Crunching the damp deadened leaves of winter, murder mysteries unfold as you walk.

Images creep in of your trusty companion tackling your assailant.

So lost in thoughts of dread you don't hear the heavy tread of the jogger as he passes by with a mumbled 'Good Evening, lovely weather we are having'. Mrs A Tildsley

Meadow Close, Little Lever

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.