According to the Tourist Information guide, this is Chorley's main attraction. It's claims the house is a symbol of past glory with which the people of the town closely identify. The truth is that few local people have actually visited it. A residence was built at the site in the 16th century, but Astley Hall has been rebuilt and extended many times. It is misleading to claim, as the Tourist Board does, that the building is actually this old. The building was once said to be pretty, but unfortunately in the 19th century its brick exterior was replaced by a dull cement.

All I can offer in defence of Astley Hall is that it contains an impressive shuffleboard and admission is free. The fact that the hall is sold as Chorley's premiere attraction suggests the council are, to borrow an English expression, clutching at straws.

Inside the main entrance Oliver Cromwell's boots are displayed in a glass cabinet. It would be nice to believe Oliver Cromwell stayed here during the civil war and forgot his shoes, but it is merely propaganda designed to increase the number of visitors. Predictably, it is rumoured that Astley Hall is haunted and an underground tunnel connects the building to a nearby church. They also tell such stories to the children in my country.

The hall also hosts art exhibitions. I use the term loosely. I only attended one such event and it will be my last. It was advertised as an exhibition of the history of modern art. It consisted of about ten printed posters, each of which I could have bought for under three pounds from any university's Student Union. Near to the Astley Hall is the ludicrous Stone Age Burial Site. It is a large stone containing an engraved message, telling passers by that people once lived here in the Bronze Age. Another example of the tourist board clutching at straws.

Mormonism was founded in 1830 by Joseph Smith. Since he was 14, Smith had various supernatural experiences. One was a vision of God and Jesus saying that the none of the worlds churches were the true church. Another was an angel telling him where to find a buried hieroglyphic book written on gold plates. He claimed to have translated the 'magic' book, but would not tell of its location, and gave his work a ridiculous title; The Book of Mormon. If the Mormons are to be believed, the true church is not in Mecca, Jerusalem or Rome, but in Chorley.

Most recent expansion of Mormonism has occurred in the third world, particularly Mexico, where the recruitment of new members is closely linked to a welfare programme. In Chorley, the Mormon's recruitment strategy has involved sending out immaculately dressed Americans riding expensive mountain bikes to tour housing estates. It is difficult to see what this will achieve.

I have been told that a relatively large number of Mormons live in Preston, hence the building is named the Preston Temple. Preston's council refused the Mormons' planning permission, but Chorley's, presumably more corrupt, council allowed the temple to be built on a green field site. The cost of the building is undoubtedly huge, with over a million pounds spent on trees alone, though I would not believe any of the estimates you hear in local bars. I have heard many such figures, which tend to range between 20 and 250 million pounds.

As a gesture of goodwill, immediately after the temple's completion, Chorley's population were allowed a free guided tour of the complex, which I attended. Everyone was closely watched by sharply dressed men in suits, who spoke occasionally into their communicators. After a long period of queing, we were led into a room and shown a corny promotional video of the worlds Mormon temples. In this room I noticed a photograph of the temple's leader, who wore an outfit identical to that of Airwolf's Archangel, but there was no eye patch nor mention of a stolen helicopter hidden inside a volcano.

Before entering the temple itself, we were made to wear plastic bags over our shoes, so not to contaminate the sacred Mormon carpet. An official told me, after all the tours had finished, the carpets would be replaced; further ensuring no Mormon would walk on a desecrated floor. I was also ordered to leave my camera and umbrella with security. The building was very congested with visitors and we slowly shuffled our way around the predetermined and closely guarded route.

The majority of the temple was like an opulent Travel Lodge, but one room stood out in particular; the celestial room. I cannot remember the spiritual significance of the room, though I would guess it is something to do with space. It reminded me of Las Vegas, and the decorations looked as expensive as they were tasteless. There were large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, perhaps representing galaxies. I also noticed small rooms filled with computers.

See the Mormon's Guide to avoiding masturbation, For Young Men Only.

Though now less impressive than its heyday of 1982, the bus station is still the place that encapsulates the feel of the town more than any other. It is best seen between 5 and 7 in the evening. When I first came to Chorley, I found it unbelievable that many of the people who came here were not waiting for buses; the police do not tolerate such idleness in Honduras. Young people came to drink bottles of the award winning Slalom lager and listen to the futuristic sounds of Electro on their, in eighties urban American slang, ghettoblasters. Another popular venue for disaffected teenagers is Tripping Tunnel, which runs beneath the M61 motorway and is home to the areas finest graffiti. The long wall was once lined with vending machines and photo booths; which were primarily used by teenagers sniffing glue and discovering their sexuality and subsequently removed by the "nanny" council. Throughout the eighties vending machines were continualy vandalised and eventually removed in 1989. The last was a Coke-a-Cola drinks dispenser which innexpilcably chenged position within the town center every few weeks; though it met its demise on the bus station at the hands of the infamous Alexander Eccles. Allegedly he kicked the drinks machine repeatedly until dragged into a van by the police. Older people tend to come in the mid-afternoon and often reminice about times when bus travel was free to the elderly and prescription drugs had more interesting side effects. Opposite the bus station, on the Flat Iron, the Refreshment Bar cafeteria was once extremely popular with listless pensioners. Though the food was poor, the crockery dirty, the tea never quite right and the prices surprisingly high, the atmosphere was second to none. Unfortunately, the council demolised the Refreshment Bar to provide parking spaces for their ill-judged and synthetic Market Walk project.

In the words of the people
 

(LH,Wythenshawe)

Frankly, I haven't enjoyed  reading this at all. Take me back.

I never knew a man from Honduras could be so fascinating. Tell me more, Dave.