Diary and Information.

Drove into Manchester along Ashton New Road/Manchester Road at about 10.15 a.m. Traffic heavy. Approached Ashton and decided to park upon outskirts of the town (Margaret Street). I didn't really know where to start, most of the preliminary work I had done in preparation for the commission was in the centre of Ashton. But today it would be packed with Christmas shoppers. I decided to retrace my steps along Manchester Road and take a look at a roadside florist I'd noticed on the way in.

1 January 1989

Visited Ashton Moss with a friend but took no photographs. The lighting was very poor by the time we arrived. Walked down Rayner Lane from Ashton Cricket Club. The sign which warned against shooting had been bent back in place, but the "L" had now disappeared it simply said "NO.... SHOOTING ALLOWED..." Towards the right by the radio masts a couple of model aeroplanes flew overhead, buzzing around like a couple of annoying flies that wouldn't go away.

Further down I could see at least a couple of families, scavengers amongst the abandoned crops, one family seemed to be gathering potatoes, the other sprouts. Beyond them a mound of rotting carrots lay in the corner of a field, they looked like spent shotgun cartridges.

After a couple of detours we turned back and headed up Rayner Lane. On the way we met a bloke walking 3 greyhounds. He asked us if we were "ratting". I said "No". When I asked him what he thought would be left of this area when the motorway had gone through (this is becoming a bit of a tried and tested question), he said he didn't know, and then added "soon there will be nothing left", and then he left.

I thought of him on the way back when we spotted a huge rat wriggling about in a ditch, and of the comments made by my friend who, when I asked her what she thought of the area, had described the moss as an agricultural wasteland.

4 January 1989

Phoned the Roads and Transportation Section of the North West Office of the Department of Transport and asked for a copy of the proposed route of the M66 extension. I was told the earliest start date for the work would be 1992, and that most of the Compulsory Purchase Orders (CPOs) would have been served by mid 1990.

7 January 1989

Received proposed route of M66 extension (Denton-Middleton Section). If built as planned the motorway would run right across Manchester Road, by Crowthorn Nurseries where there would be a motorway junction, onto Ashton Moss and straight through Albert Hulme's holding, towards Daisy Nook. The plan was dated 1988 but didn't give any indication of the construction start date.

14 January 1989

Decided to try and track down Mr. Hulme on the MIP Market. I found him outside sat in his van eating a piece of toast. I explained who I was and what I was doing, and then gave him some photographs I had taken of his holding. He seemed to like them. I then mentioned the motorway. "Yes," he said, "it will go straight through my land, but I'll be an old man by then". When I explained that I would like to photograph his buildings more closely, he said certainly, and gave me permission to photograph on his estate anytime I wished, but warned me of the three guard dogs he had locked up in his shed. He then carefully explained how I could gain entrance to his estate, if the gate was locked and he wasn't around, via a plank over a drainage ditch.

I thanked him for his co-operation and said I would go back, take some more photographs, and then let him see the results.

I walked back home, the weather was beginning to improve, the cloud cover disappearing. I hadn't planned taking any photographs today but by 10.00 a.m. I was on my way to Ashton Moss.

Ashton under Lyne. 28 October 1989.

The centre of Ashton, 9.30 a.m., Saturday morning, hardly bustling, although it has to be said that I'm at the quiet end of town. Chester Square and Henry Square are deserted except for a statue of Hugh Mason (mill owning philanthropist). Stamford Street and Old Street are also desolate. These streets, like much of the original centre of Ashton, were created by the landowners, the Earls of Stamford, on a distinct grid pattern. They must once have been bustling thoroughfares, but not any more. The shopping precinct and bypass has changed all that. The latter has all but cut-off access to Stamford Street West and must have virtually liquidated it overnight. The bottom end of Old Street is also forgotten and forlorn. Thankfully, things improve as you move towards the market and the small streets to the south of it are still surviving, and in some cases thriving.

I walked up Penny Meadow and headed towards Stalybridge. Near the top of Penny Meadow is a sandwich bar and take away. It's closed. It was formerly "John's Cafe" - a cosy and friendly diner, which I photographed sometime ago. Now it's a rundown shack which I fear won't survive much longer.

I left the town centre and walked along Beaufort Road, across Stamford Road, down Clarence Street, towards the canal. The Huddersfield Canal. The last of the trans-penine waterways: completed 1811. It runs from Ashton to Huddersfield. It was abandoned in 1944. Now it's being restored. This section has just received the treatment, there's all the tell tale signs: newly laid towpath; lockgates covered in paint (not grafitti); sand blasted stonewalls; freshly creosoted fences. I feel as though I'm walking through a museum.

Ashton Moss

4 February 1990

2.00 p.m.

"Frontal troughs will cross all parts of the country", the weather forecast said. "Winds will be strong, but it will be mild for the time of year". It is. It's also cloudy, but the surrounding hills look very clear, close to. They surround me on two sides, I feel as though I'm in a giant ampitheatre.

But the feeling doesn't last. I turn around and I am confronted by the new housing developments, they eat away at the edge of the Moss. The housing is nondescript, could be anywhere: Bromley; Bromsgrove; Milton Keynes; Telford - but it's Littlemoss. Prospective buyers weave in and out of the muddy closes in their Sierras and Carltons. I wonder if they know that they could end up living in a house with a motorway in their back garden.

The clouds close in, it begins to spit with rain. I follow some overgrown tracks I've not walked along before. I'm convinced they'd lead somewhere because I can see the prints of horses' hooves in the earth - unofficial bridle paths which zig-zag across the Moss. Following those paths I notice just how forgotten and lost much of the land is. Jack Ashby's description of the Moss as a desert comes to mind, and remains there until I emerge on Moss Lane opposite Lomas's, where I am reminded of what the Moss could (and probably once did) look like.

Ashton Moss

1 July 1990

2.00 p.m.

Officially the end of the commission. I did have an idea to finish where I started, by photographing Rayner Lane from the Wrigley and Bennett sign - but it seemed a bit contrived.

So 18 months, 60 visits later, my work on the Moss is over. I would be lying if I said the commission had worked out exactly as I had intended because the Moss was just meant to be a starting point before moving onto Ashton and Stalybridge. Whilst it's true I visited these areas at a later stage, it was to this small triangular area of peat to the west of Ashton that I kept returning. It would be pointless to try and explain its special attraction to me. Maybe the photographs will do that.

Today the Moss, like the first day I set foot on it, has a melancholy air about it. It's overcast and there's not a soul about, just a few cows lying down in a field. It starts to rain and the wind lashes in from Littlemoss. I put my hood up and head for Manchester Road, seeking refuge in the "Snipe". Then when it's stopped raining I make my way to Stan Miller's. He gives me a cup of tea and invites me into his caravan where we sit talking. He tells me Jack Ashley is writing up his history of the Moss. I tell him I'm glad about this and say I would like to see it when it's finished. Stan says he'll see what he can do.

We talk a bit longer then Stan asks if I have read about the proposals for developing the Moss. I say I haven't. Stan then rummages amongst some papers and hands me a couple of letters with Cordingley's (the Estate Agent's) name at the top. The letters give notice of their intention to seek planning permission to develop the area. Comments are sought by 10th July. I quickly scan the letters, the words leisure, housing, industry and recreation lodge in my mind. I re-read the letters once, twice, perhaps three times, then look at Stan. He looks at me. Neither of us say anything. We don't need to. We both know what this means.

July 1990

Revised January 1991