They are part of an ongoing set of exhibitions of the mundane and generally unnoticed which have previously included "USUAL PLANTS, UNUSUAL PLACES", "USUAL PLACES, UNUSUAL T SHIRTS", "DOWN OUR WAY" and "LAST ORDERS AT THE BAR PLEASE". Some of these projects can be seen on Creative Hive.
Every front has a back. There’s no denying it. Generally speaking, the front is going to look better than the back and this set of photographs supports that, but that doesn’t mean we should deny their existence.
I have a great fondness for some of the backs in Darwen. The first picture here is of the back of Redearth Street, the only one not taken in November 2011 because it was demolished a couple of years ago to make way for the new town centre high school. I spent the first 8 or 9 years living on that street, and its back provided a great playground. Despite its gentle steepness, football and cricket were always popular. The lopsidedness added its own charm to a game. The best time by far, though, was when it snowed and we could sledge at breakneck speed over the snow and ice covered cobbles.
I could tell you a thousand tales about Darwen River round the back of the Olympia Cinema and going up past the back of the Crown pub, the Nasty Back off Redearth Road and the Club Yard near the Mocambo coffee bar but that’s for another day. Like a lot of people who were born around the time of the current monarch, I wake up some mornings and it takes a few minutes to work out whether it’s Christmas Eve, Pancake Tuesday or St. Patrick’s Day, but wandering round the back streets of Redearth is a clear to me now as it was those 50 odd years ago.
I’m glad I bothered to photograph the front and back of my old street before it was demolished, and it seems worthwhile now to document some of the remaining backstreets even though many of them have lost their cobbles and gained fancy gates.
Many of the buildings we have now seem to be just about clinging on and probably won’t be around much longer. I’m thinking of some of the terraced streets and particularly the lone house we see here on Back Duckworth Street which is the house my Dad was born in in 1912. If nothing else, at least these photos might prove useful in some future Regression Therapy sessions. Failing that, I hope the viewers who have taken the time to look at them now may have some memories stirred or they may be curious to have a look round the back of some familiar buildings to see if anything catches the eye.
