Linking local business & community in Congleton

By Mark Edwardson I’m approaching a significant birthday. I know you’ll find this easier to believe than I’d like but this face is approaching sixty years old. And I know what you’re pondering, “Why is he lying about his age? Are they his own teeth? And is that thriving brush on his head a syrup?” I’m not saying. It’s good to maintain a bit of mystery in a relationship. But I admit my looming seventh decade has induced a deep sense of reflection. I’m just about Generation X.

By Mark Edwardson Well, the long hot summer of 2026 is slowly fading from our memories like the tan lines on our skin. Those weeks of soaring temperatures and unbroken blue skies seem such a long time ago now don’t they? Blimey, Christmas never seemed so close. Now autumn is wrapping us in its golden gown and winter approaches I thought it timely to remind ourselves how our lovely little town looked in the height of summer. Congleton’s floral displays are nationally renowned.

By Mark Edwardson Hollywood or bust! Oh yes, darlings! This month I’m full of theatrical bluster and voice projection. After being dormant for many years my acting career has been rekindled! OK - that’s a massive stretch and barely believable but I have been called upon to provide my services as a thesp. And it was either a case of playing to my strengths or being typecast. On an unbearably hot and humid summer morning the ‘phone rang. “Hello, it’s Claire. Are you busy?”, enq

By Mark Edwardson As a younger man I didn’t really pay much heed to my ancestry. In addition to my parents and sister I knew my grandparents, uncles, aunties and cousins. I was blessed with a kind, generous and loving family and I think about them every day. However, I didn’t see any point thinking about who had gone before after all I never knew any of them. Being from grimy south Lancashire I didn’t expect there’d be much to discover. Both my grandfathers were colliers, my

By Mark Edwardson How does a former traffic bobby become Congleton’s number one citizen? That’s the question I asked Councillor Robert Brittain who’s just completed his year as Congleton Town Council’s Mayor. “I’ll be honest, I’ve absolutely no idea,” he chuckled with characteristic modesty. “Someone said ‘would you be interested?’ And it’s one of those where you truly believe you can do something but it quickly becomes apparent you can’t do everything. I’d just settled in to

By Mark Edwardson An imaginative businessman has just sailed into Congleton and he’s got some big plans that might float your boat. When a large ship berthed in Congleton she was greeted with a wave of excitement. But various plans and owners came and went and the boat known as “The Pearl of the Dane” or “The Steamboat” fell in to sad decline and ultimately dilapidation. If the former Danish trawler had actually been floating in the River Dane it would probably have capsized

By Mark Edwardson ¿CÓMO ESTÁS? Yes, that’s right I’m scribbling this article in Spain. I’ve gone on safari in pursuit of the sun in what I genuinely believed was the appropriately named Costa del Sol. However, the overcast and occasionally drizzly weather makes me long for Congleton and the sunny spells you’re all enjoying at the time of writing. Don’t get me wrong I adore Spain. The culture, the cuisine and the people are all fantastic. So is the weather - mostly. But motori

By Mark Edwardson Recently, in an idle moment, I took a nostalgic look at previous copies of Beartown Voice and I realised I’ve been writing this column for five years! Tempus fugit. Many of those articles focussed upon the culture of our fantastic little town. And there’s lots of it. So, it came as a pleasant surprise to learn a bid is being put together that could put Congleton firmly on the national cultural map. We’re all aware of the “City of Culture” accolade. The close

By Mark Edwardson When I first came to Congleton what struck me was the beauty of the town - how it had retained some of its old world charm through its older buildings. The most obvious examples are the ancient, timber framed houses and hostelries. I originate from St Helens. Any trace of its pre-industrial expansion are long gone. So, when my wife and I ventured in to town on that first Friday evening we made straight for The Kings Arms. I’ve still got a scar on my head fro