Rainford Walking Day
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
Rainford is a smallish ruralish village on the B52703 somewhere near St. Helens (which you also probably have't heard of). If I tell you that St Helens is within gobbing distance of Liverpool, you'll probably think of the Beatles, and all sorts of inappropriate connotaions will spring to mind.
Rainford is extremely boring. The annual highpoint of village life is "Walking Day," a ritual peculiar to small northern towns and villages, as far as I know. In July of each year the rotarians, parisheners, brownies, girls brigade, scouts and catholic school- children gather in the car-park opposite the village hall.
All the boys and girls are decked out in thier Sunday best, or thier brownie uniform, or whatever, and the bigger boys and girls get to carry the flag of thier organisation. The grown ups carry those really big banners that trade unions had in the olden days; the sort that are ornate and heavilly embroidered, with thick tassles and fringes. These banners require three strong people to carry them, and in strong wind have been known to topple even the proud rotarians.
There are normally three bands in the parade, Rainford youth Silver Band, the Scouts brass band, and another one that I've forgotten. When all the walkers are ammassed around the village hall, the bands strike up (discordantly) and the throng marches the 200 yards along Churh Road into Church. There then follows a short service in which the vicar presumably says things and the brownies giggle and make trouble. (I was a trouble-making brownie)
Following the service, the walkers march out of church, and head west towards the village boundary. The magnificent route passes two florists, three newsagents, a village garage and a shell garage, half a dozen pubs and finally reaches the chinese chippy. Opposite the chinese chippy there is a D-shaped bus-stop layby type thing, around which the congregation about turns. They then double back, head past the church and up to the east boundary of Rainford, which is marked by two ugly green statues with no arms. Finally, its back to the village hall for weak orange juice and soggy digestives.
The whole caboodle of church service, three mile walk and 'refreshments' takes up most of the afternoon. The evening attraction is Silcocks, the crappy travelling fair, that arrives in Rainford just before walking day and sods off just after; giving all the thirteen year old girls their only chance of the year to cop off with fat greasy fairground mechanics.
As the darkness decends over Rainford, the crackling scent of hundreds of barbeques fills the air (weather permitting) and the whining howl of the waltzer siren drifts across the village.
When I was a kid, me and all my friends in Rainford took part in Walking day, and as far as I know it still happens. I once asked my mum why we had walking day, and she didn't know. Nor does anyone else I ask. Half the village lines the street to watch the other half of the village walk up and down it. Flags, bands and the church are somehow involved, and the fairground comes along to cash in on the excitement. Strange isn't it.
But I do know the real reason behind walking day. British liscencing laws used to prohibit all day drinking, and the pubs in Rainford would shut after lunchtime. But on Walking Day, the pubs were open all day long, and by the time the brownies were in church, the mums, dads and heathens were pissed in the Eagle and Child. In a village as dull as Rainford is, there has to be something to look forward to each year.
Rainford is extremely boring. The annual highpoint of village life is "Walking Day," a ritual peculiar to small northern towns and villages, as far as I know. In July of each year the rotarians, parisheners, brownies, girls brigade, scouts and catholic school- children gather in the car-park opposite the village hall.
All the boys and girls are decked out in thier Sunday best, or thier brownie uniform, or whatever, and the bigger boys and girls get to carry the flag of thier organisation. The grown ups carry those really big banners that trade unions had in the olden days; the sort that are ornate and heavilly embroidered, with thick tassles and fringes. These banners require three strong people to carry them, and in strong wind have been known to topple even the proud rotarians.
There are normally three bands in the parade, Rainford youth Silver Band, the Scouts brass band, and another one that I've forgotten. When all the walkers are ammassed around the village hall, the bands strike up (discordantly) and the throng marches the 200 yards along Churh Road into Church. There then follows a short service in which the vicar presumably says things and the brownies giggle and make trouble. (I was a trouble-making brownie)
Following the service, the walkers march out of church, and head west towards the village boundary. The magnificent route passes two florists, three newsagents, a village garage and a shell garage, half a dozen pubs and finally reaches the chinese chippy. Opposite the chinese chippy there is a D-shaped bus-stop layby type thing, around which the congregation about turns. They then double back, head past the church and up to the east boundary of Rainford, which is marked by two ugly green statues with no arms. Finally, its back to the village hall for weak orange juice and soggy digestives.
The whole caboodle of church service, three mile walk and 'refreshments' takes up most of the afternoon. The evening attraction is Silcocks, the crappy travelling fair, that arrives in Rainford just before walking day and sods off just after; giving all the thirteen year old girls their only chance of the year to cop off with fat greasy fairground mechanics.
As the darkness decends over Rainford, the crackling scent of hundreds of barbeques fills the air (weather permitting) and the whining howl of the waltzer siren drifts across the village.
When I was a kid, me and all my friends in Rainford took part in Walking day, and as far as I know it still happens. I once asked my mum why we had walking day, and she didn't know. Nor does anyone else I ask. Half the village lines the street to watch the other half of the village walk up and down it. Flags, bands and the church are somehow involved, and the fairground comes along to cash in on the excitement. Strange isn't it.
But I do know the real reason behind walking day. British liscencing laws used to prohibit all day drinking, and the pubs in Rainford would shut after lunchtime. But on Walking Day, the pubs were open all day long, and by the time the brownies were in church, the mums, dads and heathens were pissed in the Eagle and Child. In a village as dull as Rainford is, there has to be something to look forward to each year.
