retiredmartin

August 2025. Burnley.

Two Burnley ticks on a Sunday in opposite end of town meant another bus, from Briercliffe to what I guess is Rose Grove to the east.

I pay my quid (“Wow !“), the bus pulls into Platform 7 at central station, I realise I need to stay on this bus, even though its number is about to change from 2 to 5.

“Can I stay on the bus ?” I ask the driver as he heads off for a cuppa.

“Yeah“.

Well, I hope my crimes don’t catch up with me, that’s all I can say.

Twelve minutes to the Lane Ends Hotel,

a solid looking road house with Massey Brewery windows

and a sprawling interior that says “community pub”.

Birthday party, bikes in the porch, all ages in having a natter, two beers on the bar.

The Bowland tells you you’re on the edge of one of England’s most scenic Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty; the ubiquitous Landlord just tells you you’re in an English pub in 2025.

OK, open plan pubs will never quite match multi-roomed boozers, but it’s worth the £3.50 for that symphony in brown and comfy bench seating.

I have no idea what the sport was on the telly,

but that Landlord was a cool NBSS 3+.

And I saved a mammoth £1 on the return journey by walking sprinting back along the canal towards Manchester Road station,

pausing only to be accosted by a gaggle of pre-teen girls near the Coal Clough pub.

“Wanna buy a book mister ?”

Of course, that book might have been the 1975 GBG, or the 2025 Chinese Takeaway Guide, but with no adult in sight I certainly wasn’t stopping to find out.