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Bolton Wonders
Last night I had the chance to look around Bolton for the first time, and was very taken with the statuary in the main square. Some of it was the kind of thing you might expect - civic appreciations of formers mayors and leaders of corporations, and the like.

But there were also more unlikely subjects, such as the People's Steeplejack, Fred Dibnah.

There was also what purported to be a War Memorial, but which I prefer to view as a before-and-after allegory of the danger posed by unlicensed chiropractors.
This won't hurt a bit...

Oh dear.

Then came a statue of a man whose only identification was the single word CHADWICK, carved boldly into his plinth. No doubt I should know who Chadwick was, and why he needs no further introduction, but I don't.

I walked round all four sides, but no more writing was to be found. There was a however a mute clue, in the form of a plaque on the plinth ("plaque on the plinth" is a wonderfully cheering phrase to type or indeed to say aloud, by the way). From this I infer that it was Chadwick's custom to don a poke bonnet and pass amongst the poor of nineteenth-century Bolton, bringing cheer to all he met. I will be rather sad if this turns out not to be the case.

(Oh, all right. I googled him, of course. The statue is probably of this bloke. [ETA: Or, more likely still, this one. Thanks to
mraltariel for the link.])
Finally, I would so like to see a Romeo and Juliet story in which the son of Sizzles falls in love with the daughter of The Food Factory.

Bolton beats Verona, any day of the week.


But there were also more unlikely subjects, such as the People's Steeplejack, Fred Dibnah.

There was also what purported to be a War Memorial, but which I prefer to view as a before-and-after allegory of the danger posed by unlicensed chiropractors.
This won't hurt a bit...

Oh dear.

Then came a statue of a man whose only identification was the single word CHADWICK, carved boldly into his plinth. No doubt I should know who Chadwick was, and why he needs no further introduction, but I don't.

I walked round all four sides, but no more writing was to be found. There was a however a mute clue, in the form of a plaque on the plinth ("plaque on the plinth" is a wonderfully cheering phrase to type or indeed to say aloud, by the way). From this I infer that it was Chadwick's custom to don a poke bonnet and pass amongst the poor of nineteenth-century Bolton, bringing cheer to all he met. I will be rather sad if this turns out not to be the case.

(Oh, all right. I googled him, of course. The statue is probably of this bloke. [ETA: Or, more likely still, this one. Thanks to
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Finally, I would so like to see a Romeo and Juliet story in which the son of Sizzles falls in love with the daughter of The Food Factory.

Bolton beats Verona, any day of the week.

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I notice the determined patriotism of the Food Factory, unmatched by Sizzles, though possibly only for lack of a second storey.
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Sizzles may not have a second storey, but you will see it has a window!
How they must loathe each other.
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I dunno about the loathing. Possibly sibling rivalry. The ageing father split his inheritance between his children, retaining only the right to have a pizza or kebab of his choice on a Saturday night for himself and his Blowling Club friends. But it all went horribly wrong - it's all fun and games till somebody loses an eye.
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http://www.boltonmuseums.org.uk/collections/bolton-museum-history/historyofboltonmuseum/
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So today will *not* be a day of Zero Achievement after all!
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I like how the flag makes a sort of unintentional vocative to the buffet ad.
(I approve of your icon. Unfortunately, I have nothing Ronald Searle-related with which to illustrate this. But it's awesome.)
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Though a Hampshire child myself I'm afraid I've no memory of Portsmouth Town Hall at all, though I doubt either version was designed with Ruinenwert in mind. My sense is that bombs would have a pronounced negative effect on the overall look of the thing.
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*snerk*
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It's a jolly good little museum- with a surprisingly impressive Egyptological section.
My wife used to be a Chadwick. Her parents still are.
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My wife used to be a Chadwick. Her parents still are.
I understand it runs in families.